Cardassian Galaxy
by CelticPen
Summary: Peace has finally descended in the Federation. Treaties with the Romulans & Klingons, the latter decades old, the treaty about to be signed with the Cardassians. But in Nature nothing is ever perfect, therefore if everything is right.. something is wrong
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

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><p>The Sovereign class Federation starship, USS Enterprise, registry NCC-1701-E, the sixth ship to bear the name, sliced through warp space as if the huge distances it travelled barely existed. The convex elongated oval of the saucer section seeming to cut through warp space like a hot knife through butter. No less sleek was the main Engineering hull, attached to the saucer by a slim neck. Completing the profile of the Federation's flagship were the twin sponsons curving out from the midsection, carrying atop them the long cylindrical warp drives which gave the Enterprise, and indeed all her fellow vessels, their distinctive silhouette. The overall impression was of sleek powerful efficiency.<p>

Aboard the flagship the impression was retained; even now in deep space - where Earth time had less relevance except to communications - the current relative period was referred to as the graveyard shift. Atop the saucer section was Deck 1, housing the Main Bridge, Captain's Ready Room and the Observation Lounge - more often than not the latter being used as a conference room for senior staff than to gaze at the stars, as the name might suggest. The bridge was accessed by a turbo lift at the right rear onto a raised platform stretching the width of the oval. Ramps curved down either side, to the left where a door led to the Captain's Ready Room, while on the right was the entrance to the Observation Lounge. On the main deck of the bridge three seats backed onto the centre of the raised platform, in front of them two further seats shared a sweeping console most of the width of the bridge, facing the huge multi-purpose viewscreen, the left seat for the Operations Officer or deputy whilst the right seat was the position of the Helm Officer. Behind the three main seats a large console commanded centre stage of the raised platform itself. This was the Tactical station. The three seats themselves had specific purposes too, the left hand chair being to a degree multi-purpose although more often than not occupied by the Ships's Counsellor, the Betazoid Deanna Troi. The right hand seat exclusively for the use of the ship's First Officer, the current incumbent of that post being Commander William T. Riker. The centre seat, the command chair. Its' usual occupant being the august personage of Captain Jean-Luc Picard, commanding officer of the starship. Now however it held an entirely different occupant due to the late hour of normal duty, the gold skinned android, Lieutenant Commander Data.

It had been a quiet shift. Even Data was bored. Or to put it another way he had been able to allocate no less than 98% of his positronic net to matters other than the running of a Sovereign class starship. Nutritional supplement 278 for Spot, for instance. Memories of Tasha Yar, which he found in a subroutine he'd long since intentionally left unaccessed. In fact...

'Sir!' Ensign Tess Allenby's voice cut across his thoughts.

'Yes, Ensign?' Data lacked the capacity for excitement, but knew dimly that it was a good thing that he had a new task. His net had been in danger of entering a feedback loop from which only Geordie on a good day could have retrieved him. And Geordie lately had been having very few of those, he reflected.

'Sir, I'm reading a Federation starship at high warp crossing into Federation space.' Data stepped forward to her console to view for himself, her readouts. 'High warp Mr. Allenby? Please specify. And what type of starship?' She tapped the controls and responded, 'Warp 7.9 Sir. Sir, it's Daedalus Class, the U.S.S. Archon.' Data tried not to show the momentary confusion this information produced. The Archon was believed destroyed in 2167 at Planet Beta III by the computer Landru.

He straightened up and paced back to the command chair. 'Heading?' Awaiting her reply, '223 Mark 6. That's a direct heading for..' The android held up his hand; 'Qualor II. I know.. Data to Captain Picard.. Please meet me in the Observation Lounge as soon as possible. Mr. Allenby lay in a course to pursue. Ensign Rega, open a communication channel. Repeat hail until answered. Then relay to the Observation Lounge. Lieutenant Samuels, you have the bridge.'

Data stood and strode swiftly to the Observation Lounge. Within five minutes Captain Picard had joined him. Having heard Data's report Picard tapped his communicator briskly; 'All senior staff to the Observation Lounge. Immediately.' Will Riker; blinking sleep from his eyes was the first to arrive, accompanied by the Enterprise' Chief of Security, and the Federation's first - currently only - Klingon officer, Lieutenant Worf. Last to join were Chief Medical Officer, Beverly Crusher, Deanna Troi and Chief Engineer Geordie LaForge.

'Mr. Data', began Picard, 'as this is your discovery. Please proceed.' Data nodded in acceptance, 'Thank you sir', he then recounted the events of his final five minutes on the bridge and was just completing his brief, '.. at which point I summo..'

'Ensign Rega to Commander Data.' Data tapped his comm. badge, 'Data here.' The disembodied voice spoke clearly; 'Sir, I've been repeating hails on all Federation and Cardassian frequencies with no reply. The ship has increased speed to Warp 9.2, old scale that is, sir. At present it is pulling away from us.'

Data glanced at Picard, 'Inc..' Picard shook his head, no. 'Let him,' he cut in, 'Sometimes Data it is better to let the quarry think it has succeeded in its goal. Besides before we do anything I want to know what he thinks he is doing, and why?'

'A rendezvous with the Duras family?' rumbled Worf, 'they were sighted at DS9 last year and may still be in the area. They may be planning an alliance.' Worf always suspected the Duras family. When he wasn't suspecting the Romulans that is.

'Possible, but unlikely.' There was a silence. 'Or', continued Picard, 'am I the only one who thinks so? Number One?'

'Sir the Cardassians have never been the Federation's friends, nor too the Duras'. Especially since the last incident. But the present uneasy peace has lasted so long I am inclined to agree with you. I would suggest we continue on our original heading to Deep Space Nine. Maybe Kira Nerys will have some ideas for us. Besides we can't leave Geordie short staffed much longer. He's tearing his hair out. We need Ensign Gomez back.' He glanced over at Geordie and grinned cheerfully.

'Thanks Commander', replied LaForge, 'Sonya Gomez is all I need at the moment to make my days truly complete.' The Captain eyed his engineer; 'Problems Mr. LaForge?' Picard too remembered Ensign Sonya Gomez. At their first meeting of Stardate 42523.7, following her transfer from Starbase 173, she had _distinguished_, he thought wryly, herself by spilling coffee down the front of his uniform tunic. He regarded his Chief Engineer, not without some sympathy.

'Not really sir. A slight glitch with the antimatter flow regulators. It's being a little elusive, that's all.' He scowled. 'Perhaps I could help.' LaForge brightened. 'Thanks Data, I'd appreciate it.'

Picard coughed meaningfully. Everyone looked at him. 'If you don't mind, perhaps we could return to the matter at hand? Number One, I concur. Make it so. Thank you everyone. Dismissed.'

'Colonel Kira, good to see you again.' Picard was in a careful mood. After their last meeting he wasn't too sure of the reaction he could expect from Kira.

'I agree. It's been too long since the Enterprise paid this little backwater a visit. Our Operations Chief was beginning to think you may never return.' A small chuckle.

'How is Chief O'Brien? And Keiko?'

'Both fine. Little Molly is starting to become a bit of a handful I believe. The Chief looks a little worn some mornings. The joys of fatherhood.'

'I wouldn't know.' Picard returned, somewhat ruefully.

Kira coughed, changing tack. 'When may we expect your arrival?'

'Approximately six hours at 0500. And we need your help. But I won't discuss it over sub-space. Picard out.'

He sat back; his fingers steeped resting against his lips as he thought of the possibilities of what lay ahead. _Qualor II. Qualor II. What could possibly interest the Cardassians there? There was absolutely no.._ He gave up. But there was something gnawing away at the back of his head. Something to do with security and Bajor.

'Computer, Security clearance Alpha One. Code Picard, Gamma, Kappa, Two, Four, Six, Beta.' A bleep confirmed access. 'Verified.' He considered his inquiry and spoke, clearly and precisely, 'Analysis of connections between Bajor, Qualor II and the Cardassian Union. Confine search to security parameters.' There was a pause. 'Analysis complete. No connections within specified parameters.' Picard was at a loss. In desperation, he reached forward and tapped his padd. 'Computer. Open a secure subspace channel. Priority One, Admiral Thomas Henry, Starfleet Security. Direct routing to my ready room. Immediately.'

Admiral Henry was a big bluff man, usually quite genial. Now, however, he looked concerned. 'Yes, Jean-Luc. What is it? I have the Bajoran delegation due here in two weeks for finalizing the peace agreements between their peoples and the Cardassians. I don't need to tell you what kind of headaches that is creating!' Picard grew more solemn at this information, 'Agreed Admiral. However, in light of what you have just said, my information may be of vital importance.' Henry glowered. 'Hmm. Continue then.'

Picard related the data uncovered thus far, up to the computer's inability to impart any further data to him. Henry was not pleased. Henry was cross. He immediately accessed the computer records himself, to Picard's surprise, the Galaxy Class Project records. Then he was alarmed. 'Jean-Luc, you were right. There is a connection. Now this is Classified. Need to know basis only.

When the Galaxy Class project was complete, as you know there were six fully operational Galaxy Class Starships in service. NCC-70637 - Galaxy; NCC-71099 - Challenger; NCC-71807 - Yamato; NCC-71832 - Odyssey; NCC-71854 - Venture; and last but not least, the NCC-1701-D your last command the Enterprise-D. Of those six, the Yamato and Enterprise-D we know to have been destroyed. But what is not generally known is that at the same time, components had been constructed, sufficient to construct a further six operational vessels. These components were, for security, distributed throughout Federation space.

One of the sites was Surplus Depot Zed 15. Orbiting Qualor II. Of course, this could all be a huge coincidence. However, I do concur, it is worrying. For now continue with your original plan. See Kira Nerys. Ask her opinion. Watch out for her though. One whiff of this and she'll be after Gul Macet with a carving knife. Henry out.'

Ensign Rega at the Helm stood and walked over to the accompanying station manned by the Enterprise' Operations Officer, Lieutenant Commander Data. Data looked back at him, 'Yes Ensign?' Rega reached over him and tapped a few keys on the console. 'Sir I've been looking more at the trajectory the Archon was on at the time. Initially we were concentrating on where it was going. However I decided to see where it had come from.' He paused and looked at Data, knowing the import of what he was about to say. 'Sir it originated in the Veridian system.' Data looked up sharply, thought briefly and made his decision. He swivelled round in his chair to face the command chairs. Picard and Riker both looked up from their tasks, knowing that Data never deviated from one course of action without very good cause. Upon hearing the new data Picard's response was swift. He tapped his communicator and spoke swiftly. 'All senior staff to the Observation Lounge, immediately.' He stood without waiting for a response and strode around the curved ramp to the right of the bridge, Riker and Troi in tow, exiting through the sliding doors toward the Observation Lounge to await the arrival of the others.

He did not have to wait long. First Geordie, Crusher and finally Worf who had been in a training session in Holodeck 6. They sat patiently as he delivered the latest instalment in what was becoming a lengthy saga. Again Worf was the first to comment, with a grimace. 'The Enterprise D.' He looked over at Geordie. 'Could it have survived?' Geordie raised an eyebrow and considered his answer carefully. 'Well, the saucer section as we know landed on Veridian III and was salvaged by the Federation. The Engineering Hull however, well that's what gave the saucer the kick into the planetary atmosphere, when the warp core breached before we were far enough away to escape the concussion. Question is, was it the warp core? When I left Engineering for the last time it was looking critical. Temperatures, stress, containment, all of them were off the scale. If there were any chance of the core not breaching then I would have said so at the time. However no engineer likes to give a definite prediction, as there are just too many variables to consider. In my opinion, and certainly at the time there was more chance of it blowing than not, much more, and that was my advice and I stand by it.'

Picard held up a hand. 'Mr LaForge, nobody is attempting to lay blame here. However if there is a possibility that the Enterprise-D survived the explosion we witnessed, I feel we have a duty to investigate if this is the case.' He tapped his badge and ordered 'Helm, set course for the Veridian system, Warp 6. Engage!'

Deep Space Nine. Cardassian mining station, abandoned after the end of the occupation of Bajor. Barely serviceable when the Federation took over control of its administration. Not too important. Then the Wormhole was discovered. And events really began to happen quickly. The Cardassians were barely halted from claiming the Wormhole for themselves. Bajor entered a new era of commerce.

Even Quark's Bar on the station saw a massive increase in business, greatly to the delight of its patron, Quark the Ferengi owner. He could even now afford to lease new space for his holosuites, famed for their relaxing atmosphere. Which was where he was now. And very cross at being disturbed.

'What is it now Rom? Can't you see I'm busy? Deal with it yourself!' He tried to pull the door shut. A shadow fell over it. Quark looked up. A runty weasel like creature looked down on him. 'Oh, it's you Shrek. Well, what is it? You can see I'm a very busy man!'

Jaglom Shrek. An Yriddian. Dealer in information. Also an unpleasant individual. 'Oh, very busy', echoed Shrek, eyeing Quark's companion, an Orion Slave Girl. Green skinned, full-bodied, voluptuous to a fault. And, at this precise instant, totally naked. With Quark's head nestling in her lap as she caressed his lobes. Quark sat up, and she fell back as his ears caught her under the breasts. She landed hard, out cold.

'Now see what you've done. What do you want? For the last time!' Quark was annoyed. 'Evek.' Quark was puzzled. The Cardassian military were certainly not Shrek's usual clientele. 'What about him? The Gul is probably a very busy man.' He grinned. 'He'll see me.' Quark scowled and shook his head. 'I don't deal with Cardassians. Find another fool to do your dirty work. Better still, do it yourself! Goodbye!' Quark shut the door of the chamber, and returned to his companion, to concentrate first on getting her conscious. And then.. He grinned in anticipation.

Dr. Julian Bashir was never very good with women. Unlucky. Inexperienced. Totally useless. '_Delete as applicable_', he thought ruefully, the sting of the slap still smarting. His face brightened, 'Ah, Ezri, sit down, join me, please.' It was the 'Please' that caught her attention, or rather the tone of it. She looked at him more intently, and noted the fading pink mark on his left cheek. 'Oh Julian. The eternal optimist. What have you done now?'

He related the events of the past few disastrous minutes, culminating in the abortive attempt to kiss Lieutenant Jennifer Dixon. Dax' mouth twitched at the corners. 'What am I going to do with you Julian?' His face brightened again, and then divining her meaning, he slumped over the table groaning.

'I give up! Tell me, what do women want from me? What do I do?' Dax smiled sympathetically, 'I can't help you I'm afraid. I've had male hosts more often than female. In short, I haven't been one long enough to be too sure. Just be yourself, I think that generally works for most people.' He slumped, 'when they aren't me!' She ignored this attempt at self-pity and continued with her original mission. Gossip. 'The Enterprise is on its way here. No-one seems to know why.'

'Hmmm. A Sovereign Class starship. 1014 crew, approximately half female. That's now let me see... half fourteen is seven...' Dax sighed. 'Five hundred and seven', she cut in, 'Five hundred and seven new women to fall swooning at your feet.' He ignored the sarcasm. 'That's right, five hundred and seven. How long until they arrive?'

'About half an hour. But Julian, don't forget most of those will be involved with some of the five hundred and.. seven.. men.. Oh I give up.' She snorted in exasperation, realizing that by now she was talking to thin air. Bashir was gone; his head by now filled with a Sovereign class starship half full of women all calling his name. And he couldn't disappoint them, now could he? Definitely not!

Optimist is not the word.

The Enterprise streaked through warp space toward her goal. Picard in his Ready Room sat regarding the stars passing by outside and reflected on how his forefathers on Earth had looked up into the heavens from their ships and wondered at what they held. The door enunciator chimed for attention; 'Enter!' Will Riker looking thoughtful entered and regarded him quizzically. 'Something on your mind, Number One?' Riker inclined his head toward Picard. 'Yes sir, it's just that we never did decide why the Cardassians wanted Qualor II anyway. You told us the why, why but not the why now. I mean, the Cardassians are at peace. They withdrew from Bajor over a year ago ', seeing Picard shift uneasily, 'that's it, isn't it?'

'Sit down Commander. Will, I sometimes wish you were not quite so intelligent. But, on this occasion, you've forced my hand. What I am about to tell you is Classified. Admiral Henry would only tell me after reminding me of the need to know ruling, which in this case definitely applies.

To begin with you guessed right. The Bajoran connection is the key. Also much more...'

When he had finished speaking he sat back observing Riker's reaction. He gave a low whistle. 'So that's what it's all about! If the Cardassians could get their hands on even one Galaxy Class it could change the balance of power in this entire sector. And with, as you mentioned, the peace talks due to conclude in a fortnight. The timing does not look good.'

'Agreed. We don't even know how far down the road the Cardassians have gone. This could merely be the first component to be retrieved, or..' Riker scowled; 'It could be the last', Will finished the unspoken part of the sentence, 'in which case the talks would be meaningless. In less than five to ten years the Cardassians could be back. Stronger than ever. Able to take Bajor and keep it this time.'

'There's worse Will. You are forgetting the wormhole. Just because we haven't sent a ship of this size through yet, doesn't rule out the possibility entirely. No the fate of the Gamma quadrant too could rest on the success of our investigations.'

'You're forgetting the Odyssey! They got through all right. I seem to recall the Jem Hadar made short work of them. But they got through.' They sat, pondering the enormity of Picard's words. And of Will Riker's observations. The spectre of the Jem Hadar rejoining the Cardassians with the probability of a new alliance of the two made their blood run cold.

Thoughts ran through both minds, jumbled up. But with the common thread of fear. Fear of what the Cardassians could achieve with a Galaxy Class starship. Fear for the safety of the Federation, should they not succeed in preventing the acquisition.

'Kira to all senior officers. We will greet the Enterprise crew at the Promenade. They will be docked at Upper Pylon Three.' Bashir grinned in anticipation as he changed into a fresh uniform. But Kira wasn't finished.

'Full Dress Uniform will be worn by all Starfleet Personnel. That is all.'

'Aaaarghh.' Julian hated his dress uniform. It was his opinion that you couldn't look dashing in a skirt. Or at least that was his opinion of the dress uniform. He tore off his uniform and reached glumly for his closet.

The Enterprise approached the Veridian system at sub light speed. Picard sat in the command chair, elbows on the arms, fingers steeped toward his chin. Slowly he stared at the viewscreen in front of them as the ship slowed from warp re-entering normal space on his command and dropped to Impulse speed. Forefingers tapping his lower lips he glanced to his left to his first officer tapping at his console, fingers playing over the displays like a concert pianist over the keys of a grand piano. He broke the silence. 'Thought Number One?' Will looked over and sniffed. 'Hmmm.. Well first of all a complete baryon sweep of the area where we know the Enterprise to have gone down. Correction. Where we _believe_ the Enterprise-D to have been lost. Actually no scratch that. I was thinking the Enterprise had been due for a sweep, and that the decay rate of baryon particles isn't that high, so a heightened concentration may point us to the location, or recent location, of our missing ship.'

Picard paused before replying choosing his words carefully. 'Good plan. However I was considering not so much looking for the Enterprise-D, but rather for indications of the presence of those who we suspect of having obtained her hull. Warp signatures of Cardassian, Ferengi, Yriddian nature, for example.' Riker thought for a moment, and never a man to fail to acknowledge error nodded. 'Yes sir that would make more sense.' Picard tapped his communicator. 'Mr LaForge. Join us on the bridge please. We have work to do.'

As they awaited the Enterprise' Chief Engineer's arrival the Enterprise slid into orbit around the third planet of the Veridian system, each of those present regarding it with a mixture of emotions; sadness; anger; Picard for his part recalled the struggle between himself and Doctor Zoran, their foe the previous year; Riker a mixture of shame at losing the prior ship whilst in command, anger at the manner of her loss; Troi, anguish at the loss of life incurred during that fateful mission; Worf, pure anger directed solely at what he perceived as the sole cause of the incident, his personal nemeses, the Duras sisters. Picard stood and strode toward his Ready Room, noting as he stood; 'Time to report to the Admiral. Will, you have the bridge.'

As he sat he recalled his conversation with Kira Nerys when he had placed the secure subspace message to DS9. A smile drifted over his lips at the memory;

_'Oh good. Doctor Bashir will be most relieved. He hates Starfleet's dress uniform!' She laughed. Picard gathered she drew some amusement from the discomfort of the young doctor, especially as he had not specified dress uniform, and after all protocol only demanded it on official visits to a Starfleet installation or from dignitaries. He had joined in her laughter, commenting that his security officer held similar opinions. 'How is Worf? We do miss him here since you poached him off us after that business with the Borg!' The reproach in her tone was unmistakable, yet Picard knew, only half serious._

He chuckled to himself as he tapped in his security code and awaited the open Flag Officer's channel to Admiral Henry. The screen cleared and Henry turned toward his screen. 'Jean-Luc. You're at DS9 already?' His eyebrow arched in surprise. Picard grimaced knowing his superior was not going to like this one little bit. He recounted recent events, and was not disappointed. Finally sated Henry sat back in his chair. 'So, what are your plans now?' Picard outlined the strategy they had formulated. Henry nodded approval. 'Sounds good Jean-Luc. Make it so. I have work to do here. Henry out!' The screen darkened. He stood and returned to his place.

It was with a sense of déjà vu that they materialised on the surface of Veridian III and spread out. Each party equipped with a full set of diagnostic tools and high-powered tricorders for scanning the area, searching for signs of disturbance. Riker in command of the Away team leaving Picard onboard the flagship of Starfleet to oversee the search and the compilation of results garnered from his own efforts on the surface.

Riker stepped forward tricorder held out and examined the readout. To either side of him other teams spread out over the designated start point to begin sweeping for signs that their quarry had been in recent occupation. His eye took in the rough wide gouge scored through the planet's surface by the Secondary Hull of a Galaxy class starship in its' final death throes sliding across the landscape in a desperate effort to save the lives of those aboard, rescued from certain death only by the quick actions of the crew that had acted superbly at his every command to ensure their survival.

He was shaken from his reverie by a shout. 'Commander! Sir I've got something you need to see here!' He looked up and ran over to the Lieutenant waving to attract his attention. As he approached he looked in the direction the officer was pointing. 'OK, what am I looking at here?' The young lieutenant passed him his tricorder. 'See for yourself sir!' He glanced at the readout and screwed his face up in puzzlement. 'What the hell?' 'Cardassian phaser fire sir. They must have been using the place as a base for their operations and combat training. Sloppy, uncharacteristic for them really, I guess they were overconfident sir.' Riker nodded and stepped away, tapping his communicator badge. 'Away Team to Enterprise. Captain we have definite signs here of Cardassian occupation. I don't believe any more time should be spent investigating further.' The snap decision was made. 'Agreed.' 'Away Team to Enterprise, fifteen to beam up.' Confinement beams resembling columns of blue light enveloped all present and disassembled them down beyond their component atoms to pure energy before transporting them the 500 miles to the Enterprise above in high orbit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

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><p>'Report.' Such had been Picard's opening comment once again with all command staff gathered in the Observation Lounge. He was beginning to wish he had not made that command to his first officer. Glancing around at the crew sat around the elongated table he pulled down on his tunic and leaned forward in his seat. 'Alright. Ideas. Options. Anyone? Mr Worf?'<p>

Worf turned his head toward Picard grimacing. 'Well sir, this is, as Lieutenant Mendez said to Commander Riker, highly unusual and not in the normal pattern for Cardassian troops, be they ground troops, or Fleet officers. Cardassians do not practise, at least not in the full light of day where anyone could observe them. That part of their nature is forcibly strengthened by the inclusion of at least one member of the Obsidian Order in their group.

I am suspicious. However, the fact remains. The Cardassians were here, correction somebody armed with Cardassian weaponry was here; within one light second of our last sighting of the Enterprise-D. We must take that seriously and endeavour to detect if they obtained anything useful from their visit.'

Geordie LaForge spoke up. 'On that note Captain, if I may be excused. My crew and I have a job to do if we are to map this entire sector and find, hopefully, either the hull of the old girl, or better yet, residual particle decay from the explosion. Worst case scenario is that we find neither, but we do find decaying warp signatures from Cardassian warships.' Picard nodded, to both points. This would indeed be worst case scenario. 'Yes Mr LaForge. Dismissed.' Geordi stood and made his way back to Engineering where he gathered his team together to begin operations as directed.

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><p>'Sir, the dilithium.' The young commander stepped back respectfully from his superior who glowered at him. The case was taken from him and its' recipient turned and pressed the correct access code for the panel behind him. He reached inside and very carefully placed the casing into its' correct position within the dilithium articulation chamber, for such it was. The panel slid shut as he again keyed in the correct code. A long slow breath passed his lips as he stepped back and turned to the rail at his side. The tilt of his head back and forth took in the entire height of the warp core, currently dormant.<p>

'Kotin to bridge. The warp core is ready to be brought online at your command.' The reply, crisp and officious could not quite hide the speaker's pleasure at the news. 'Excellent. Do it now.' Kotin turned to the younger officer, and hesitated. In less than a second's time they would either be watching a fully operational warp core being brought online up to full power, or be vaporised in the anti-matter blast that would signal a serious error in their construction techniques. Even a non-serious error might be enough; he recalled how many times as a child he had played with toys, disassembling them and reassembling them, only to find there was a piece left over. As a child such errors were forgivable; as an adult there might be nobody left to forgive him, or he noted with a wry smile, anybody left to know about his error. He delayed the inevitable no longer. He touched the final key of the initialisation sequence and held his breath.

Nothing.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Closely followed by another thought on its' heels. Failure was not an option. They were deep inside enemy territory, their escape hinging on his skill as an engineer. He curse under his breath and rechecked the sequence. _Ah!_ He repeated the sequence. This time to be rewarded with first a low pulsing, growing inside the tube to his left. It grew in tempo and strength. Unknowingly mimicking the act of his opposite number aboard Enterprise-E he stood and watched the blue column of energy growing in intensity as the forebear to that ship, the Enterprise-D breathed once more.

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><p>Aboard the –E Geordie was busy alternating between curses and frustration as each new energy pattern threatened to deviate them from their goal. He threw down the stylus he was tapping on his screen and cursed again. 'Dammit! What the hell am I missing here Data?' A quizzical expression passed over the face of Sonya Gomez to his left who glanced behind her at Reg Barclay and grinned. 'Do I tell him or do you want to?' Reg looked up at her from his seat at the systemic diagnostics console. 'Y.. you.. t.. tell him, Ensign.' He sighed, the old stammer back again, once more to return as his bete noir under pressure.<p>

LaForge growled and turned to Gomez irritably. 'Tell him… I mean me… _what?_'

'Sir, Commander Data returned to the bridge over half an hour ago.' Geordi blinked and looked around the Engineering Deck Two. 'OK let me rephrase then. Dammit _Ensign_ what in the name of hell am I missing here?' 'We.' He stopped, and then sighed in understanding. 'Oh alright Sonya, what are _we_ missing here? And yes I know if Data were here he would probably point out that if we knew what we were missing we wouldn't be missing it! It was _rhetorical!_ I need ideas people not lessons in grammar!' 'W.. w.. w..' He turned. 'Slow down Reg, what's on your mind?'

'What if the Enterprise neither blew up nor were taken by the Cardassians?' LaForge furrowed his brow indicating for the older but junior officer to continue. 'Well, well what if, and I know this is a stretch, what if the hull were somehow shifted by some form of turbulence. It's been over a year since the accident and with enough of a kick to break its' inertia…' Geordie tapped his comm. badge. 'LaForge to Stellar Cartography. Lieutenant Ki Sek. Are there any signs of solar or cosmic phenomena within the last 18 months, two years, which could produce enough of a turbulence or gravitational impact to shift a sizeable object?' 'Ki Sek here. How sizable Commander?' Geordie thought. 'Approximately 1,750,000 tonnes.' 'Wow that's a big piece of junk! What are you looking for?' The reply from Geordie was unusually crisp. Having the first starship on which he had served as Chief Engineer, a ship that would forever hold a special place for him in his memories, described as 'a big piece of junk' was not a remark calculated to improve his humour. 'Enterprise-D.' 'Oh. I'll get back to you. Ki Sek out.'

* * *

><p>Evek grunted in satisfaction. The progress report laid out on the PADD in his hand indicated that they were exactly on course for completion. He dropped it on the desk of the Captain's Ready Room and picked up the one next to it, holding the second stage of the plan – the removal of the vessel safely to Cardassia Prime. Not for the first time he scowled noting the name of the officer commanding the expedition deep into Federation space. However his ire was tempered with the knowledge that, should the operation fail, then one of his bitter enemies would take the fall for it. However should the plan succeed then he himself would share in the glory that came with it.<p>

'Gul Evek to Engineering. Status report.' The reply was swift. 'Kotin here sir. Everything is proceeding according to plan. We are completing engine tests up to full and emergency power shortly. Testing will then commence on the primary defensive and offensive systems. Finally testing will be completed on the Structural Integrity and the Inertial Damping Fields. We will then be ready to get underway.' 'Good. Evek out.' Praise was not in Evek's nature. As a career Cardassian military officer he gave orders without any thought to the possibility that they might not be carried out. That was taken for granted. He stood and paced to the window behind the desk and looked out. Restless, he was bored with being cooped up on this ship and yearned for action. Reflecting briefly that he had not joined the military to sit behind a desk, a grunt was again the only response.

* * *

><p>'Anything?' Ki Sek was anxious. Now the whole weight of their mission to the Veridian system was on her shoulders. If she and her team could not deliver, they might never find out if the Enterprise-D were still in serviceable order or not. Quite why this was so vital to know she neither knew nor understood. She did however know that it was her duty to find the trace elements the Enterprise' Chief Engineer had requested. Leaning over the shoulder of her colleague, Ensign Bolek she sighed. 'Nothing?' Bolek, a Sartin with golden skin and deep blue multifaceted eyes turned to her. 'On the contrary Lieutenant. Look here.' He pointed. She leaned over his shoulder at the display in front of him, and grinned. <em>That would indeed explain the anomaly.<em>

She tapped her communicator. 'Lieutenant Ki Sek to Lieutenant Commander LaForge.' 'LaForge here. What have you got for me Lian?' She told him. He swore, then he laughed, then he tapped his communicator. 'LaForge to Captain Picard. I think we have your answer sir. May we meet with you in the Observation Lounge?' Picard's answer was swift. 'All command staff to the Observation Lounge. Picard out.'

After a brief pause to round up Reg Barclay and Ki Sek Lian, Geordie made his way up to Deck 1, the bridge, and crossed the back wall to pass into the Observation Lounge. The younger officer, Ki Sek was nervous, as Picard was quick to notice. 'Relax Lieutenant. Mr LaForge says you have good news for us.'

Ki Sek took her appointed place at the head of the conference table and tapped the wall display into life. She coughed. LaForge took his cue and joined her. 'OK as you all know we need to find the last resting place of the Enterprise-D. The last four hours have yielded nothing useful to my teams in trying to detect any trace of either the E-D, or anything else of interest.' This last phrased very carefully as the crew were strictly on 'need to know' regarding the Cardassian involvement, and Ki Sek did not need to know. He continued. 'However, as usual Mr Barclay came up with the goods. Tell them Reg.' Barclay spoke up, although having spoken to the same group on several previous occasions he had lost the nervousness so apparent before. 'Well, it occurred to me that we were looking in the wrong place. The Enterprise hulk would have been an inert object, and as such obeying Newton's First Law, that being an object's natural state is rest until acted upon by an external influence. I wondered what that might be.' LaForge smiled, 'which is where Lieutenant Ki Sek's expertise came in', he deferred to her, 'Lieutenant? The stage is yours.'

Ki Sek stepped back to the display and turned to face her audience. 'Ladies and Gentlemen, approximately 8 months ago the comet Sarek', Picard smiled recalling how disturbed the normally placid Vulcan had been when the comet had borne his name, 'passed through this system. Not in itself an unusual occurrence. However through an unusually large piece of interference by Lady Luck, this time it passed close by what we believe to have been the last resting place of the NCC-1701-D, USS Enterprise-D, Galaxy class starship. At roughly 2.5 million tonnes without the saucer section the Galaxy class is not exactly a lightweight by any means. However, Sarek is a comet of some 56.4 million tonnes. We suggest that the passage of such a massive object at what appears to have been only a few thousand kilometres would have been enough to capture the Enterprise-D in the gravity well of the comet and arrest it from its' inertial state to become a slave to the comet and be, essentially, dragged along behind it, and probably for a fair distance. However that is Mr LaForge's department not mine.' She turned to him. 'I've had my team upload all the information on the direction, speed and magnitude of the comet. Given the last known position of the Enterprise as well, we ought to be able to extrapolate the current one.' Barclay coughed. 'If I may, I think I ought to return to Engineering to assist in the work.' Picard glanced over at him 'Agreed Mr Barclay. Dismissed.' Barclay left and Ki Sek made her own request and left with him to return to Stellar Cartography.

Picard looked round at his fellow officers. 'Well, that about wraps this up for now. We should return to our stations to continue planning. This time with the assumption we find the Enterprise-D or evidence of her abduction. Dismissed.' The grouping broke up and dispersed to their duties in preparation for the task ahead.

* * *

><p>The stone columns reached high above, testimony to the construction skills of earlier generations. Resplendent in times of celebration with banners, the façade was now cold and dark almost, in Earth terms, gothic in appearance. The eye was guided down the centre of the high vaulted room to the throne at the far end. Occupied currently by the latest in a long line of rulers over this domain. At this precise point in time however, the head of the High Council in question was not in the best of moods, and in the mood to shoot the messenger, a not uncommon literal fate for the bearer of bad tidings in his culture.<p>

'What do you mean, 'missing'?' Anger unmistakable in the tone. The officer stood proud yet uncommonly wary. 'Sir, it is not in the storage facility.' The reply was icy. 'Precisely where is it then? Be warned. You next words may be your last for this incompetence!' Now for the first time in his life the officer tasted something unfamiliar to him. Fear. 'I have my men conducting a thorough investigation. It shall be found Chancellor!'

The one eye swivelled in its' socket to fix the officer with a penetrating stare as its' owner scowled. 'For your sake I hope you are correct! Now get out of my sight!' He drummed his fingers on the carved arm of the massive chair in which he sat. This was not good, not good at all. To lose something of such vital, such strategic, importance was a devastating blow to the Empire. He could only trust now in the skill of his officers to trace and retrieve the item in question. _To fail in this would bring all the Empire's allies and enemies flocking, and in the hands of an enemy, the Bolians for instance…._ He did not complete the thought.

* * *

><p>'Success Captain!' The jubilation in LaForge's voice was unmistakable. Picard smiled and glanced at Riker before responding. 'I take it that indicates a favourable result to your investigations Mr LaForge?' LaForge's tone now took on a more guarded tone. 'Well yes and no Captain. We've found trace elements that indicate the passage of the Engineering hull of the Enterprise-D. However, the bad news is that we have also found traces of several warp signatures at the same location.' Here he paused. 'Cardassian warp signatures.'<p>

Picard sighed, although this was not an entirely unexpected development. 'Ensign McKnight, set course for Deep Space 9. Maximum warp. Engage!' The blonde head bobbed as the ensign at Helm guided the immense vessel at her hands from relative rest executing a neat sidestep of Einstein to enter warp space and set the USS Enterprise-E on course to the space station on the edge of the Federation/Cardassian border, where destiny awaited her.

* * *

><p>'And this is ship's Counsellor, Deanna Troi of Betazed.' BETAZED! He gulped. Oh no, that meant.. He looked across at her. Yep. She returned his look and smiled, knowingly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, opened them, and groaned.<p>

'_Damn, I don't believe it_', he muttered, '_a Betazoid. Now I'm losing the battle before I've even introduced myself. If things get much worse.._' Unaware his mumbling was just audible. 'Something wrong Doctor?' Inquired Kira. 'Er.. No Colonel, absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. No.' He slammed his mouth shut, aware that he was rambling. He rubbed his hand over his face. He was sweating. On balance today was so far going rather worse than even he usually managed. Which if he had stopped to think about it, was quite some achievement.

'Good, then I assume we may continue. Captain, may I introduce my staff? My Chief of Operations, Miles O'Brien.. I believe you already know. Lieutenant Ezri Dax, a Trill. Also science officer for DS9. Doctor Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer. Finally, Odo, our Security Chief. Of my staff I believe Odo will be of the greatest assistance in the current situation.

Thank you everybody. Dismissed.'

The DS9 staff broke up, and, following Picard's direction to the Enterprise' bridge crew to do the same mingled together. 'Odo', called Kira, 'a word if I may'. He turned, and approached them. 'Captain Picard has brought us an interesting problem, and one which as I mentioned you may be able to shed some light on. Shall we?' He directed them to the nearby turbo-lift. Picard beckoned Data to follow.

Odo caught up with Troi as she walked along the corridor. 'Councillor may I have a word please?' Deanna stopped and turned 'Certainly Constable, Odo isn't it?' He nodded 'You are Councillor, Troi. Any relation to the charming Lwaxana Troi?' Deanna blinked 'Uh why yes, she is my mother.' Odo smiled 'Indeed. A remarkable woman!' He turned and walked away. Deanna regarded him with a puzzled expression and followed behind.

* * *

><p>Picard waited until they had all settled in Kira's office, with the door secured before he began his brief. Beginning with the latter part of Data's shift. Moving to the staff meeting. Finally, to the communiqué with Admiral Henry of Starfleet Command. He waited. Not for long though. 'Macet!' Spat Kira, 'It has to be! Captain I can smell him all over this!'<p>

'Interesting', put in Odo, 'a nice theory Colonel. Unfortunately, one full of holes. Gul Macet has been on Cardassia Prime for the past six months. It seems he was a little careless in one of his operations and a senior politician's son died as a result.

No, I am afraid that the Gul's attention, far from being on a hunt for bits of a Galaxy Class starship, are more likely to be on his own skin.'

'Then who?' The door chime announced a party outside. Odo looked at Kira ostensibly for permission, 'Colonel, if I may?' Kira nodded, 'Certainly Constable. Come.' The door opened, and a lieutenant of the security staff entered. With a certain irate Ferengi in tow. 'Colonel, I pro..', Quark began hotly. Kira cut him off with a motion of her hand. 'Constable, if you would like to continue?' Odo nodded. 'Thank you. Now then Quark, perhaps you tell us all you know about Cardassian matters of late.'

'Well I er, Gul Macet is facing an inquiry on Cardassia Prime. Something to do with causing the death of ProConsul Torel's youngest son… I don't know. Anyway…', Kira growled. _Was she the only one who didn't know that?_ She made a mental note to interrogate her sources thoroughly on the subject. 'Yes, yes', cut in Odo, 'But what of the other Guls. Madred for instance, or Darhe'el, or even Evek. Ah, so it's Evek is it?'

'I don't know what you mean. I'm an honest bartender, trying to make an honest credit..' He fumbled an answer. 'That makes a refreshing change', Odo's cutting wit was famous, 'what brought that on? But don't change the subject. Evek.' Odo had noticed Quark shift uneasily at the name, becoming, if possible, even guiltier looking than normal. And he wasn't about to let this particular fish off the hook. 'And if you don't tell me I'll lock you up. I know you've been watering the Altairian brandy again. But I wouldn't worry. Rom can look after the bar until you get out. You can recover from bankruptcy you know.'

'All right, all right. I'll tell you.

The person you need to watch is Jaglom Shrek. An Yriddian. He was asking me about contacting Evek just yesterday. But I sent him off. I won't deal with Cardassians. I do have standards you know! And that's the truth. All I know.'

'Standards', repeated Odo to himself, seeming shocked, 'Quark actually has standards.' Ignoring the glowering Ferengi. 'May I go now?' Quark inquired testily, 'Rom, as you pointed out is quite capable of having me in the poor-house in the time this meeting has taken.' Odo recovered. Or had it been sarcasm? 'Yes you may go.'

'Thank you Quark for your valuable assistance', muttered the aggrieved Ferengi as he stalked out, followed by the security staffer. The door hissed shut behind them.

'Now, gentlemen, and lady', began Picard, 'where does that leave us? As I see it all we have so far is a meeting between a Cardassian Gul and an Yrid..' His voice trailed off and he looked thoughtful. He tapped his communicator, 'Commander Worf. Please be good enough to join us in Colonel Kira's office.'

Within minutes Worf had joined them and introductions were over. Picard voiced his thoughts.

'Commander, The last time we were here was the occasion when you were misinformed that your father, Mogh, was being held alive by the Romulans. Am I correct in believing that the informant on that occasion was an Yriddian?' Worf nodded. Picard continued, 'one by the name of Jaglom Shrek perhaps?'

A ferocious snarl erupted from Worf's throat. Of such vehemence that even Picard was momentarily taken aback. But Worf recovered quickly and apologized for his outburst. 'Quite all right, Commander. I assume that to have been a positive response?' Worf simply nodded.

'Tell me Colonel, is this Shrek a frequent visitor to DS9?' Kira responded. 'Yes Captain. He's here generally once every six weeks or so. Although now you mention it, he has been here quite a lot recently. I'd have to check my logs to be sure, but..'

'Not necessary. That will suffice for now. Although we may require that information at a later date. Very well, here's what I suggest..'

* * *

><p>Julian was on the verge of giving up. That was the third time.. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked round, smiling. Straight into the smiling face of Deanna Troi. He gulped. <em>Uh Oh. Here it comes. Again.<em> He tensed, mentally already flinching. 'Relax, I won't bite', she responded. He groaned. 'I knew, as soon as Captain Picard said 'Betazoid'. I..'

'Yes, I know. Don't worry. I'm really quite flattered.' Bashir blinked. 'You are?' Incredulous. 'Yes, why? Does that surprise you?' He nodded, 'Frankly, yes. I don't seem to have much luck with the opposite sex.' Troi regarded him. 'And why is that, do you think?' He shrugged; 'I wish I knew', he responded fervently. 'I try hard enough!'

'Maybe too hard. Lighten up. Let yourself go with the situation. Don't plan ahead. That always fails. By the way, you aren't doing badly so far. See if you can keep it up.' Julian gulped. Success wasn't something he was used to. 'Er. Would you like something to eat? Chocolate perhaps?'

'Well you seem to have done your homework. That's one thing you've got right. Yes, a double chocolate sundae would be wonderful.' He grinned. 'I'll see what I can do.' He left her to go to a nearby replicator. He was slightly confused. He'd survived the initial conversation without getting his face slapped. From hereon in it was unknown territory. Which shouldn't worry him too much, since women were largely unknowns to him anyway. The realization strangely felt comforting. Since he now recognized that he didn't know what he was doing, he relaxed, on familiar ground. He grinned; it was perverse, but true.

He returned to her and they sat down at a table. He watched, enthralled as she carefully guided her spoon around the edge of the dish. Gathered the twin layers on the spoon and raised it to her lips. She closed her eyes and savoured the taste. Then opened them. 'Aren't you eating?' He shook his head. 'Er, no. I was enjoying watching you eat. Quite an experience. You do like your food don't you?'

'Only chocolate. Chocolate is not a food. It is serious. It is a religion.' He listened bemused as she led him through the intricacies of what she referred to as the Chocolate Ceremony. He decided that she was a little strange. But harmless. '_You can really pick them!_' He thought to himself, still smiling at her in his usual totally baffled way.

'There is one thing better than chocolate,' he offered. 'No, it's better than sex', she responded. He winced. He'd forgotten; _How? _; that she was Betazoid. He made a mental note to try thinking with his head for a change. Also to check that his memory didn't contain any further surprises. 'I can't remember', he replied sadly. Then looked at her. She grinned. He looked at her and laughed. Soon their sides were aching with the strain, and they sat back weakly to recover their breath.

'Oh God', he groaned, 'why do I bother?' He sighed. 'Habit? Starfleet is just a job. Women are a career.' She responded. 'Yes', he sighed, then looked up sharply, 'Hey, not fair, you tricked me. Besides you're wrong. Starfleet is a career. My career. Women are a hobby. But you know the old saying 'All work and no play'...'

''Makes Jack a dull boy' ', she finished, 'and you like to play. A lot.' He grimaced unhappily. 'Would you like to see the worm-hole? I know of a place where you can get a really good view of it.'

'Now that sounds like a standard ploy 'would you like to see the worm-hole?'', she grinned, 'but, yes, why not?' They both stood, and Bashir led the way to a turbolift. They were just about to board it when; 'Deanna!' They turned. Beverly Crusher approached them, and Deanna introduced her properly to Bashir. 'Deanna', she repeated, 'I've just been to the Promenade. They sell the most wonderful things there. Clothes, food, jewellery. You must come and see.'

'Well we were..' She began. 'No, go ahead', offered Bashir, 'in fact I'll join you if I may? It's been a while since I spoke to Garak. He owns the tailor's shop. He's a good friend of mine. Also the only Cardassian left on DS9 since the occupation.' The two women agreed instantly. It had been too long since they had worn anything but Starfleet uniform, and when all was said and done they were women. Clothes they liked. Bashir had to practically run to keep up with them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

* * *

><p>Will Riker had by now joined the increasingly large group in Colonel Kira's office. He voiced the question on everyone's minds. Everyone, but Picard's that is,<p>

'Where did the Cardassians get the Archon? It couldn't have been from Beta III. It's clear to hell and gone over the other side of the Federation. It would take them days, even at maximum warp to get there. And a Daedalus class ship could never maintain that kind of speed for any length of time anyway!'

'I would assume that the Cardassians, if indeed it is they who have control of the vessel and that still has not been absolutely proven, have upgraded the engineering systems to current standards.'

'Yes, but even so. Cardassian technology in significantly lower than ours and.. But we're missing something. Data didn't you say that the Archon was destroyed?'

'No sir, I said _believed_ destroyed. In 2167 by the computer Landru. There is an important difference..'

'Of course', broke in Picard, fearing another onslaught of information from the golden skinned android, 'besides Number One, the facts speak for themselves. Our instrument readings all confirm that the vessel was the U.S.S. Archon, Daedalus class starship.

Question. How did the Cardassians get their hands on it?'

'Maybe via the Yriddians again. Or blind luck. Or any number of sources who might have informed them of the existence of a Federation starship which they could put to their own use.' Odo cut in, 'Might I suggest a course of action? That we allow Jaglom Shrek a free hand, but keep him, and his ship, under surveillance. I believe there is an old Earth saying, something along the lines of 'Give a man enough rope and he'll hang himself' which would practically do our jobs for us. He will unwittingly act as our agent and betray all his contacts.'

'Agreed.' Picard and Kira both spoke together. They looked at each other. Kira spoke first. 'I'm sorry Captain. I've spent too long as the ranking officer on the station. Of course I defer to you, as the senior Starfleet officer present.'

'Thank you, Colonel. But in matters internal to DS9 I want you to remain in charge. Only in overall strategic decisions, or while onboard the Enterprise, would I expect to have sole command.' He smiled. 'Thank you Captain. Odo, make it so.' Kira grinned.

The Enterprise contingent returned to the ship.

'Kira to Captain Picard.' Jolted out of his reverie, Picard tapped his communicator briskly, 'Picard here.' They listened intently; 'Captain, Jaglom Shrek has just requested docking clearance for DS9. I thought you would wish to be informed.' Riker's eyes narrowed. 'Yes, thank you Colonel. I'm on my way.' Picard stood, and pulled his uniform tunic down at the hem, in the manner that had become habit to him.

'Come on Will, the game's afoot, as Mr. Data would say.' He turned to leave. 'Or Sherlock Holmes', replied Riker grinning. 'Yes', Picard eyed him thoughtfully. Then turned on his heel and left the room. He entered the turbolift and commanded, 'Deck Six.'

They exited the turbolift as it stopped and made their way swiftly to Transporter Room Three. Along the way Picard acknowledged the nods of the crew that they passed. Although salutes were now long outmoded, it was a mark of respect to the commanding officer, in recognition of his rank.

They reached the transporter room, and mounted the pedestal. 'Operations Centre, DS9, Ensign.' Picard commanded, 'Energize'.

* * *

><p>They emerged into a hive of activity. Kira beckoned them over to her console to view the developments. 'Captain, Commander', she indicated her console, 'Shrek is due to dock in one minute. Hence the rush of activity. He always does this. Appears right on our doorstep, requesting clearance. Probably so that we don't have time to set up the proper checks on his cargo. Odo is waiting for him in the cargo area.'<p>

'Won't he suspect something? Surely the presence of the station's Head of Security would warn him of any danger.' Riker was surprised. 'Not really Commander, Odo's the anti-grav unit.' The dark eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Picard laughed aloud at his confusion. 'My fault Number One. Perhaps I forgot to mention that Odo is a shape-shifter?'

'Yes', Riker drawled suspiciously, 'you did.'

They watched on the monitors as Shrek's ship docked and its cargo was unloaded. Then there was a long pause. During which time Riker took the opportunity to study Kira more closely. She was a Bajoran of course. Riker didn't have a high success rate with Bajoran women. Which given that Ro Larin was the only one he had ever known, was not really surprising.

He liked what he saw. She was tall, though obviously, not as tall as he was. She had, he observed appreciatively, a full figure under her uniform. But of her personality, he had seen very little. A factor he realized would soon have to be corrected. 'Something wrong Commander?' He blinked. '_I'm slipping!_'

'No, nothing Colonel', he took the plunge, 'I was just wondering if you were free for dinner tonight?' Picard unobtrusively raised his eyes to the heavens. '_Not again!_' He returned his attention to her reply. '.. but I'm afraid I must decline. Sorry.'

Both officers took a moment to let the answer sink in. If anything Jean-Luc was more surprised than Will Riker. He had never known Will to miss before. But apparently, there was a first time for everything. 'Er.. um.. that's fine Colonel. Just thought I'd ask, that's all.' Riker stumbled a response, clearly still recovering from the shock of a rejection.

Picard saw an indicator flash on Kira's board. 'If I could interrupt your love-life a moment Commander', he began with a barely suppressed smile, 'I believe Constable Odo is trying to contact us.' They all turned their attention to the display. A written message appeared scrolling down the screen.

'Good', said Kira, 'Shrek has completed unloading and is onboard DS9. Odo is on his way up to report in person.'

'Not still as an anti-grav unit?' Queried Riker, attempting to recover lost ground. 'No, he couldn't manage the turbo-lift', shot back Kira. Will gave up, defeated. Clearly, for once he had met his match.

They sat waiting for Odo's appearance. It took rather longer than they expected, but eventually he appeared.

* * *

><p>'Ah, it's my good friend Doctor Bashir, and accompanied by two lovely ladies.' Garak was on good form, Bashir noted. 'Your flattery won't work on them Garak', he responded 'they are too sensible to fall for that line of patter.'<p>

'Leave him alone', protested Troi, 'I think he's doing fine as he is!' Bashir gave up. Not for the first time did he realize the one truth about flattery and women. Laying it on with a trowel always worked. Funny, but whenever he got out his trowel he just ended up digging holes! Which generally proved very difficult to extricate himself from.

'So my good friend Doctor Bashir, to what do I owe the pleasure of such lovely company, and yourself?' Bashir ignored the attempted slight, knowing it to be either accidental, or humorously intended. Garak was unusual in this respect. Being a Cardassian without a single malicious bone in his body, that is. 'Clothing of course, plain, simple, Garak', he responded with a smile. Garak's eyes twinkled, mischievously.

'Of course Doctor', he replied, returning the smile, 'a new suit perhaps? You may remember I tried to tempt you once before, but you were not interested.' Bashir tensed. The last time, indeed the only time Garak had actually attempted to sell him clothing, specifically a suit, he had become embroiled in a very messy situation. Could a similar circumstance be to what Garak now referred? He responded carefully, 'Is it the same suit as last time Garak? Same cloth, same cut, same size?'

'Ah, we do understand one another! Yes, exactly the same. Perhaps you would care for a fitting, when your shift ends this evening maybe, at 1900 hours perhaps?' Bashir regarded him; 'Yes, that would be fine Garak, thank you. And now. The ladies? We must not forget our manners must we?'

'Ah yes, dear ladies', Garak enthused, 'please look around, anything you desire can be purchased, or made to your requirements if desired.' Deanna and Beverly were not slow in accepting the offer. They spent fully half an hour rummaging through Garak's stock. Even Garak was taken aback at the length of time they took in selecting the cloth they wanted. They returned - eventually - both heavily laden with cloth. Troi was first to speak,

'I'm exhausted. Garak, where have you been? This is a wonderful shop! Don't you agree Beverly?' Crusher was glowing. 'Absolutely, I must speak to Jean-Luc about coming here more often!' Troi shot her a glance; 'Beverly!' Crusher regarded her innocently, 'Just joking Deanna. Now what do we owe you for all this?' She inquired, turning her attention to Garak. 'Absolutely nothing ladies. Everything is free.'

'Don't you believe him', cut in Bashir, 'he just deducts Starfleet bills from the rent he pays on the Promenade. But he says all that to make a good impression on the ladies.'

'Don't be so cynical Julian', replied Troi, 'I just think it's a very nice gesture. Come on. We must leave Garak in peace; he'll have his hands full making that lot up into dresses for Beverly and me. Besides, you promised to show me the wormhole.' She grabbed his arm and dragged him away. He let her. At least if she led the way, he reasoned, he couldn't do anything wrong. Well, that was the theory anyway.

'I have to be going now anyway. Have fun you two!' Beverly grinned as she walked away. Troi glared darkly after her. As they exited the turbo-lift Troi cried out, 'It's beautiful. I don't know how I missed it on our last visit here!' She turned to Bashir, on impulse slipping an arm around his waist as they walked together. He swallowed nervously, and similarly slipped his arm around her.

* * *

><p>'Tonight then', murmured Shrek, 'we will meet in the tailor Garak's shop. It's all arranged.'<p>

The tall, cowled figure simply nodded and strode purposefully away. With his back to their table Quark stiffened. He felt sure there was something familiar about that walk, something almost.. military! The realization caught him off-guard, and he nearly dropped his tray, spilling a few drops on a seated Nausicaan. Who was not pleased. Quark spent the next few minutes making hurried apologies, and attempting to save himself from dismemberment.

He then threw his tray to Rom, who caught it clumsily, 'Take care of things Rom, I'll only be a few minutes. And make sure you keep your hands out of the till!'

'Brother', Rom complained, 'as if I would!'

'You would, but you won't!' Quark retorted and stalked out of the bar. He needed to see Odo quickly. Quark was not an informer. But trouble was bad for business. And Quark was a Ferengi. A good one. Although a good Ferengi was not always a good person, in this case the two met. Quark didn't like it.

He liked it even less when he reached Odo's office, only to find him gone. 'Never around when you want him, always when you don't!' He muttered aggravated. 'Were you looking for me?' A voice right behind him startled him out of his thoughts. He spun around. Odo, Kira and the two Enterprise officers were stood right behind him. 'Er, no, just browsing.' He replied. 'Browsing', repeated Riker, 'in a security office window?'

'Quark!' Odo spoke sharply. Quark eyed Riker. He did not like Riker. For one thing, he was too tall. Also much too good at the dabo tables. 'All right, all right. I just saw Gul Evek with Jaglom Shrek. They were making plans to meet in Garak's shop tonight.'

'Oh really? And what were they planning to do there, buy a new suit each?' Odo was not impressed. 'How would I know? Anyway I've told you now. Why I don't know!' With that he pushed his way past them and disappeared back to his beloved bar. 'So, Evek is on the station', mused Odo, 'now what would make it worth him taking a risk like that?'

'Hold on Odo', Kira cut across his thoughts, 'now let me get this straight. You actually believe that little troll?' She was not impressed. 'Yes, what reason does he have to lie?' Odo regarded her; 'Does he need one?' She growled. Odo regarded her; 'Even Quark does.'

Bashir seemed relieved for the assistance in avoiding Kira's anger any further. Quite how she had discovered he knew of the night's pending meeting at Garak's he was unsure, but that she was displeased he was in no doubt; 'Er, yes, yes. Thank you Constable.' He related the content of his conversation with Garak to the assembled team. As he finished Picard pursed his lips. 'This Evek, is he local to this sector Colonel?'

'No Captain, in fact quite frankly I don't really know where he is supposed to be based at the moment. He's been moving quite regularly to different outposts at intervals over the past two years or so.'

'Hmmm. Tell me some of his previous postings during that time span.' Picard folded his arms across his chest and regarded her. 'Sector 21505, Sector 21630..' His head sunk lower. 'Merde, deep merde!' Kira queried him; 'What's wrong Captain?'

'Remember the Argus Array Will? Someone had been using it to spy on various Federation installations?' Riker nodded; 'Yes, DS5, Starbase 47, Utopia Planitia..'

'And the Idara Colony. Will, 21506 is only across the border from Cardassian space. As is 21629. The Idara Colony is in 21506, and 21629 has...' They both growled. 'Deep Space 5. Damnit!'

'Would somebody mind explaining the significance of all this, please?' Inquired an increasingly irate Kira. 'Oh, I apologize Colonel', replied Picard. He related the details of a previous mission to her, concluding, 'so as you can see, Gul Evek just happens to have been posted in very interesting sectors at exactly the wrong time. All the stations being monitored, barring the fleetyards of Utopia Planitia, are in far flung sectors of Federation space. And they all deal with the development of new spaceships. Which is very worrying', he repeated, 'very worrying!'

He stood, looking thoughtful, 'Number One, Colonel Kira, would you come with me please?' He led them back to Kira's office. 'With your permission, Colonel?' He indicated Kira's padd. Kira simply nodded. 'Computer, recognize Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain.'

'Identification verified.'

'Open a secure channel to Admiral Thomas Henry. Priority One clearance.' He waited. The Starfleet seal disappeared from the screen to be replaced with Admiral Henry's worried features. 'Yes, Jean-Luc? What news do you have?'

'Not good Admiral. It appears that the Cardassians were behind the reprogramming of the Argus Array, reported as a distinct possibility in my log of Stardate 47392.4. As you may recall, according to Lieutenant Worf's report, we encountered a Galor Class Cardassian warship whilst investigating the array's imaging records.

However, we were not informed of the identity of the individual we spoke with commanding that vessel. I now believe that person to have been a Gul Evek.

It transpires that he has been posted in adjacent sectors of Cardassian space on no less than three occasions to locations, which the array had been reprogrammed to observe. As was reported to Starfleet at the time, they all dealt with new starship Research & Development.

He has also been sighted recently here on DS9. Apparently arranging a meeting with an Yriddian, Jaglom Shrek. We currently suspect Shrek of being the initial informant regarding the Galaxy Class element. He has close ties with the Ferengi, who you will recall were instrumental in the incident Commander Riker reported at Surplus Depot Zed 15. It may be that they stumbled across something and sold the information to the Yriddian.

I would be grateful if you could inform me as to whether the locations of the remaining Galaxy Class segments could be discovered from any of the sources scanned during the Argus Array incident I mentioned.'

Henry quickly accessed the files. He returned looking perturbed. He passed his hand over his face. 'From Utopia Planitia he could have got everything he needed of course. However, the security there is as tight as I can make it. Which is tight. The same is true of Starbase 47 also.

The Idara Colony and Deep Space Five concern me more. While security is still tight at DS5, it could be better. And the colony has a local Federation contingent overseeing the facility. I believe that is the weak link. Although the data available from Idara is not extensive by any means it would serve two important purposes;

Firstly, to corroborate the Yriddian's story, and, secondly, to provide other clues of where to look for further data.

Good work Jean-Luc. Continue until we know exactly how bad the situation is, and how it can be reversed. Henry out.'

A fade to black and the Starfleet seal and replaced his face once more.

* * *

><p>Will Riker stopped with a jolt. He called out,<p>

'I'll catch you up in a minute.' The word he'd heard was '_Imzadi_', he was almost positive. He hadn't needed to see the look on the younger officer's face to confirm his suspicions. He knew the look, and the accompanying emotion, all too well himself.

'Can I help?' He inquired. 'What? Sorry?' Bashir drew himself up hastily, 'I'm sorry Commander, I didn't see you..'

'Relax, I just thought you looked like someone who needed a bit of help that's all. My name, by the way is Will, not Commander', he commented reprovingly, 'but I'll let it pass if you tell me where you heard that word.' Bashir blinked. 'Word? I'm sorry, I don't..'

'Imzadi.' Bashir's face fell. 'Hmmm. It means 'just good friends' doesn't it?'

''Beloved', actually. Which somehow makes it worse. Am I right in assuming that the person of Deanna Troi has, once again, succeeded in unwittingly capturing another human male's heart?' Sympathetic. 'Yes', with feeling, 'tell me Will.. I'm being rude.. my name is Julian', they shook hands. 'Tell me', he repeated, 'how did you know?'

'Been there, seen it, still there, still can't believe it. Deanna and I go back a long way. To when she was a student and I was a fresh young Starfleet graduate. We had some good times. But I decided my career was more important, and we drifted apart. It was only when we met again on the Enterprise that we found that our friendship was still as strong. And I heard that horrible word for the first time.

Imzadi.'

'Forever!' They chorused, and burst out laughing. 'Well', began Bashir, 'with me it was..'

'Let me guess', cut in Riker, 'upon greeting the bridge crew of a visiting starship, you find yourself attracted to a beautiful dark-haired vision. You then get informed that she is Betazoid. You panic, thinking that she can read your thoughts. You begin to talk to yourself, the word 'Help' is probably used. Afterwards the object of your desire approaches you and you find that she is not so frightening after all. In fact she is far too easy to talk to. You think you may be becoming romantically involved with...'

'Enough, enough! And then, as per usual, the world comes crashing around your head, your carefully laid plans, so much stellar debris. Tell me one thing though. How do you cope?'

Riker looked straight at him, his face stone, 'You don't.'

'Hmm. But Comm... Will, she is so...' he looked up at Riker. 'Deanna!' Will called over Julian's shoulder, far too forcefully. Julian took the warning and shut up. 'Hello Will, what are you two doing here?'

'Talking, just talking.' Innocent. Far too innocent. She raised an eyebrow quizzically in his direction. 'Oh yes? What about?' Two could play at that game. Julian let his native cowardice control him. He was out of his depth here, he could see.

'Not going are you Julian?' Riker. 'Er..' _'YES!'_ his mind shouted. 'No of course he isn't.' Troi. Julian gave up. 'To answer your question', Julian, nearly catatonic with fear, looked at Will. '_For God's sake, leave it!_' His brain screamed, now in panic mode.

'We were discussing inter-species mating rituals, a topic Mr. Data informs me you are very interested in.' Concluded Riker, grinning broadly. 'Mr. Data', stated Troi icily, 'is mistaken.'

'Shame!' It was out before his brain could halt it. He began faking a violent coughing fit. He turned to walk away, ostensibly to get something from his dispensary for the cough. It did not work. He felt his arm pulled by Troi. 'Sorry Julian, I didn't quite get that?'

'Er, I said 'shame', that such a sophisticated android could not be made to be able to interpret human emotions and comments more accurately, the current obvious misunderstanding presumably having arisen from a joke at some time, that Mr. Data interpreted as a serious comment. That's all.'

Will Riker raised his eyebrows behind Deanna's back. He applauded silently. She turned round suddenly. 'Something wrong with your hands Will?' He smiled benignly. 'No, no, just a slight itch. Perhaps a skin inflammation.'

'I could take a look at it if you wish?' Bashir jumped at the chance to escape; 'That's most kind Doctor,' he held out his hand to his side, 'shall we?' They both strolled off together, the sweat trickling down both backs in equal quantities. But they made the turbo-lift in safety. Will turned to Bashir.

'Next time Julian, I may not be there. Be warned. Nice line in response though. I liked that. Very good thinking, which with a mouth like yours is probably the only reason you're still here at all!'

* * *

><p>'Excuse me', Deanna turned to face the speaker, 'Counsellor Troi isn't it. Hi, I'm Kira Nerys.' Troi regarded the Bajoran officer. 'Er, call me Deanna', she responded. 'Forgive me Coun.. Deanna, but you seemed a little distracted. A certain young doctor perhaps?' Deanna looked sharply at her. 'You're not part Betazoid are you?' A shake of the head, 'then how?'<p>

'Simple. I just passed Commander Riker and Doctor Bashir heading away from this direction. Riker looked puzzled. And I've seen that look on Julian's face far too often by now not to recognize it instantly. So, what happened?' Deanna told her the whole sorry tale. The visit to the docking pylon, to view the wormhole, holding hands, the near miss of a kiss. And the memories of Will flooding back, just at the wrong time,

'.. and I'm afraid Julian took it the wrong way', she concluded sadly. 'Probably', agreed Kira, not very helpfully, 'look, if you want to get inside the head of Bashir, there is only one person on this station who can really help..'

* * *

><p>Lieutenant Ezri Dax. A Trill. Had lived a total of eight lifetimes, so far. But this was a new one on her. 'Tell me again, the bit about finding Julian, what was it? Interesting?' She fought to keep the surprise out of her voice. Sadly, being a Trill, having seen so much before, she hadn't much experience with the emotion. Consequently, she failed. Badly. 'I said', Troi repeated, irritated, although she wasn't sure why, 'intriguing. I've never met somebody before who seems so, well scared of women.'<p>

'Oh, he's scared all right. To parody an old Earth saying, 'A slap a day keeps the Doctor away', permanently. But I do have to thank you. For some reason Julian attached himself, metaphorically speaking of course, to me on sight. Since our first meeting he has been trying to get me to agree to a deeper relationship. And I don't want it!' Too forceful. Deanna's professional interest was piqued.

'Why not?' Dax squinted. 'Well, I, er.. I don't really know to be honest.' Troi looked at her. 'Ezri, he's a good person. Give him a chance. You may find yourself in for a shock.'

'Undoubtedly! But we were talking about you, not me!' She turned the topic away from herself, thankful. 'But you are a far more interesting subject. I have absolutely no desire to muscle in on someone else's territory, so I think..'

'Julian', interrupted Dax, 'is not, repeat not 'my territory'. He's just a good friend.' Deanna blanched visibly. 'Oops.'

'What do you mean 'oops'?' The reply was a little slow; 'Well, um, when I said that I wished us to remain Imzadi to each other, that was Julian's reaction. He muttered, 'Just good friends', in a half disgusted, half resigned, voice. That was the last I saw of him. He disappeared shortly after. I think I know what he meant now. That's probably all he ever hears.'

'Good guess.' Troi stood. 'I'd better find him. Where are his quarters?' Dax told her, with some misgivings. Troi left her, and paced quickly to a nearby turbolift.

* * *

><p>'Ensign Sonya Gomez, reporting for duty, sir.' Geordie LaForge, caught off guard, sat up too quickly. He caught his head on the ceiling of the narrow Jeffries Tube and swore. Evidently, sending Gomez to report to him personally had been someone's whimsical idea of a joke. He thought he knew whose. He gingerly rubbed his head where he had caught it on the roof of the Jeffries tube.<p>

'Dammit Ensign, don't sneak up on me that way. Pass me that tricorder', he growled, 'Welcome home, by the way!' Thinking at the same time, '_Will Riker, you die. Slowly!'_

'Well, I heard that the Enterprise was in dire need of an Ensign who knew her way around anti-matter flow regula...' She smiled; 'Damn, bad news travels fast! But it is old news. Data and I have just completed that repair. Now there's just the small problem of putting the plasma back into phase after inertial distortions. And that..'

'I thought that was what this box of tricks', she tapped the mid range phase adjuster, which had been the centre of Geordie's concentration for longer than he could remember, 'was for? Wasn't it?' he scowled. 'Yeah, but it ain't working right! And I can't see why!'

'Here, let me.' She took the magnifying viewer off Geordie and held it in front of her eyes, directed at the panel. Frowning, she adjusted the focus. Then, 'There!' Triumphant, 'see it?' She handed the viewer over, 'you had the magnification set too high. And because of that you missed that crack, it's nearly a tenth of a millimetre in width, and four long!'

Geordie threw down the viewer in disgust. She was right, and he'd been on this particular problem a solid six hours. Six hours too long of course, he now realized. He should have let someone else, someone fresher, take on this job. But no, they were his engines, his babies, and he wanted to take care of them when they were sick. A strange man was Geordie.

They took less than five minutes to complete repairs now that they knew what to do. Then Geordie tapped his communicator, 'LaForge to Lieutenant Barclay. Fire 'em up Reg. Should be O.K. now. LaForge out.' To Gomez, 'Come on Sonya, I owe you a drink for that in Ten Forward.' She turned to make her way out of the cramped space. As she did so, he came behind her, and, because of their close proximity, he found himself realizing that she had a very attractive figure. '_Snap out of it, Geordie. Sonya Gomez is trouble you most definitely do not need!_' He told himself severely shaking his head. This was getting him nowhere, very fast.

'Quickly, you're late', Garak bundled him inside, and they're due any second now!' Bashir grinned; 'Gul Evek and Jaglom Shrek, you mean?'

'How did you.. never mind, come in, quickly!' He caught Julian by the shoulder and literally propelled him through a pair of curtains into one of his fitting rooms. 'And stay quiet, they're due any..' His voice cut off, 'Ah gentlemen, so kind of you to grace me with your presence.' A rough Cardassian voice responded, 'Pah, being with these humans too long has made you soft Garak! Go, and we will call if we want you. The Yriddian and I have business.'

'As you wish', replied Garak. Bashir heard the sound of walking towards the door of the shop. It opened and then slid shut behind Garak. He realized he was on his own, with two very dangerous individuals conducting a secret meeting not twenty feet from where he stood. His heart sounded as if it would burst out of his ears. For the first time he realized what he was involved in, and was afraid.

He listened intently, but, despite the belief that they were alone, the two conspirators spoke in hushed voices. A careful ear could still make out the throaty rasp of the Yriddian Jaglom Shrek, and the Cardassian, Gul Evek. However, the specifics of the conversation were inaudible.

Suddenly the voices grew louder,

'No, you can't..' Pleading. 'Oh, but I can, and I'm going to!' Satisfied. 'But why? I've told you everything I know!' Cowering. 'Exactly! I know what you know. Your contacts. Your knowledge, times, places, people. You have been so very helpful.. strange that your very thoroughness should be your downfall.' Malevolent.

'You..' Whining. 'Yes, I no longer have any need of your assistance. In fact from now on you can only be a liability, a loose end. Untidy. And I am known for my dislike of mess.'

There was a burst of noise, a blood-curdling scream, and a thud. A hiss of a sliding door as the assailant fled before discovery. His training took over and Julian bolted from his hiding place. A quick scan of Shrek's remains, for all that remained of him was a residue on the floor revealed what was already apparent. Especially given what Julian noticed thrown in the corner. He swore. A Varon-T Disruptor. Outlawed for its use of a particularly lengthy and tortuous method of molecular disruption. Jaglom Shrek had died in agony. Bashir tapped his communicator.

'Security Alert. Bashir to Odo, Shrek is dead, by a Varon-T disruptor at the hands of Gul Evek.' He cursed. '_Acknowledged. Odo out._' The coldness of the response goaded Bashir. 'Odo, didn't you..' He was annoyed. '_Yes, our main lead is dead. Thank you Doctor._' The customary bleep terminated any further discussion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

'Dammit!'

'Will', commented Picard reprovingly, 'now, let's examine the situation calmly.' Riker simmered. 'Calmly!' spluttered Kira, who was sat over the other side of Odo's office. Picard silenced her with a glance. 'Yes Colonel, calmly. If we do not remain calm then we may well miss something vital in our haste. Correct Mr. Data?'

'That is correct sir. Studies have shown that when human subjects have been given problem solving tasks the following results have been observed. That in nearly all cases where the participants had previously been subjected to stressful external stimuli their performance was significantly impaired in comparison to that of..'

'A simple 'yes' would have sufficed Data', Picard interrupted him quickly, realizing his mistake, and sensing another onslaught of information from the android. Data stopped speaking. He was beginning to realize, not for the first time, that when a question was posed, the longer answer of those available was not necessarily the one the speaker required.

'So', Picard continued, 'options ladies and gentlemen?' He waited. 'Prevent Evek from leaving DS9.' Riker. 'Follow him.' Kira. 'Place a surveillance device on his ship. Monitor his movements closely. As he is now the only major player in this scenario that we know, we must keep close watch on him.'

They all turned to the speaker, Odo. 'Constable', spoke up Kira, 'how do you propose achieving that end? We don't even know what ship..'

'The Chervas, A Talarian freighter.' The voice startled them; 'Colonel?' All eyes turned to Kira. 'While you were speaking I was running down the arrival and departure logs for the past twenty-four hours. The Chervas arrived half an hour before Quark saw Evek in the bar. It leaves in ten minutes. And it has filed a flight plan that takes it very near to Cardassian space. Not difficult for the Cardassians to pull it in under suspicion of smuggling. At the same time returning a particular Gul back to the fold.'

'Very good Colonel. Now we have to move quickly. Odo, as you seem best suited to the job, I want you to place the tracking device. Picard to LaForge. I want a very small device, which we can attach unobtrusively to a ship, enabling us to shadow its movements easily, from a great distance.'

The reply came over the communicator, 'No problem sir.' Confident. 'Within ten minutes Mr. LaForge, if you please.' There was a pause, 'Ah. Data I could do with a hand if you're not busy?'

'Certainly Geordie. Data to Enterprise. One to beam up.' The familiar column of light enveloped Data as the transporter chief on the Enterprise locked on to his coordinates. In five seconds the cycle was complete and Data was gone.

* * *

><p>Julian sat up. Who would be visiting him at this time? 'Er.. come!'<p>

The door slid open to reveal.. Deanna Troi. Not in Starfleet uniform, he was quick to notice. A rather interesting, and aesthetically very pleasing, alternative though. It was a bottle green skirt, ending well above the knee. Julian started to sweat. Then he saw Will Riker behind her. And Worf whom he recognised from his prior tours of duty onboard DS9. Lastly Beverly Crusher, similarly dressed to Deanna, although her dress incorporated even less material than the former, due to a lengthy slit up its side.

'May we come in? We're one short. Do you play poker at all Julian?' He smiled; 'Er, poker, is that a game of some sort?' He inquired innocently. You didn't need to be Betazoid to see that he did, and fancied himself as quite good. 'Yes, it is', replied Riker slowly, 'and that line never works. I've tried it myself.'

Bashir grinned. He beckoned them all in, and they took their places around the table central to his quarters. Worf eyed him dubiously, and sat next to Deanna. Bashir's eyes narrowed imperceptibly at the circumstance that this suggested. He shook his head, he was becoming paranoid. The game began.

Julian soon realized that he was out of his depth. Again. It seemed that everybody in the room ate slept and drank poker. And Riker was a grand master. 'That's the best poker face I've ever seen', he commented. 'You've never played with Data', came the wry, but accurate response. 'Hmmm', he sighed, 'fold.' He gathered his cards into one pile signalling defeat.

'You give up too easily.' He and Will had been the only two left in the round. Will turned over his hole card. A Two! Damn! He had nothing! Bashir had been sitting on two pair, Eights on Sevens. Not a great hand. But a million times better than nothing! He groaned out loud, and gathered in all cards, handing them to Beverly.

'Your deal I believe Doctor.' His hand touched hers briefly, and he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Oops. Even Bashir knew when he was on dodgy ground. And Beverly Crusher looked like she could eat him for breakfast. '_But what a way to go!_' His brain responded. Then he noticed Deanna eyeing him curiously. He cursed inwardly, and wrestled his mind back to the game. Beverly was still speaking,

'Dealer gets a two, hmmm. A six for the gallant commander, a seven for the Klingon.. there goes the flush Worf.' Worf glowered at her ominously from under his massive brow, 'for the Counsellor, another four, and finally, the young doctor finishes on a six. Ante up everyone. And this will be the last hand. I'm tired', she stretched, 'and broke.' She glared at Riker, and the mound of chips piled in front of him. He smiled benignly back at her.

For the first three rounds nothing much happened. Worf folded, it seemed his flush had indeed been lost. Deanna dropped out too. Crusher resigned last of all, leaving Bashir and Riker once again the last in.

Bashir once again checked his hole card. Six of Spades. Which with the other three sixes made Four of a Kind. And put Riker in a lot of trouble. He hoped. Somehow he had managed to control the facial contortions, which threatened to engulf him when he saw the last Six. He knew he'd played badly tonight. But he was hoping, in a last desperate move, to hurt Will's winnings badly. But only if Will had a full house or lower.

'I'll see your six hundred.. and raise you.. seven thousand five hundred.' He pushed his entire pile into the middle of the table. Riker began to sweat. 'The bet is with you Commander', Worf announced, quite loudly, and quite unnecessarily. If it had been anyone else Riker would have had words with them. Worf, he allowed the comment. 'Damn', he drew his hand over his face. It came away slick with sweat, 'I'll see you.' He pushed his pile forward, and simultaneously flipped over his hole card, semi-triumphantly. A full house. Bashir swore quietly. That had been too close!

He turned over his card. It was Riker's turn to swear. He'd been beaten. And by a junior officer too. But, to his credit he took it in good grace. He looked at Bashir. 'Next time Doctor. Anyway, I must be going. Good game everyone, goodnight.' He turned and left the room. Worf, who shared a look Bashir was unable to read with Troi, before stalking from the room, followed him fairly swiftly. Bashir, looking round, gulped nervously. He was left, alone with Deanna and Beverly. He began sweating nervously.

* * *

><p>'There, that should do it! What do you think Data?' The android looked at the device in LaForge's hand. 'Not bad Geordie.' The response did not please the Enterprise' chief engineer. 'Not bad!' He responded hotly, 'Data this little beauty is an art form..'<p>

'I am attempting to practice restraint in my complimenting fellow officers. I have found occasionally that praise for a particular action results in a lengthy discourse on its implementation. Also I must correct you Geordie. An art form is one whose form and or..'

Data practicing restraint? And talking about other officers giving lengthy discourses? '_Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!_' Mused Geordie. He was careful however, not to voice the thought. Instead he threw up his hands. 'O.K., O.K. I give up!' He tapped his communicator, 'LaForge to Captain Picard. Sir, the device is ready.'

'Excellent Mr. LaForge. Constable Odo will collect it momentarily.' In front of the two officers the beam of a transporter field appeared and Odo emerged. 'Thank you gentlemen. Now, if you'll excuse me. Odo to Ops. Chief, put me as close to the Chervas as you can without attracting attention. Somewhere secluded preferably.' The beam enveloped the shape shifter once more and in seconds he had gone. 'Nice guy. Friendly too!' LaForge remarked, somewhat sarcastically. Data eyed him, unsure of how to respond. But he was sure that his response probably wouldn't be the correct one.

* * *

><p>Bashir was, however, totally unaware of the current chapter unfolding around him. He would have been interested to learn that, at the very moment his brain was, once again, struggling with his hormones for control of his body, the rest of the DS9 senior staff was engaged in tracking the Chervas, by now halfway back to Cardassian space. 'I suppose we ought to be going as well. Worf will be wondering where I've got to!' Deanna stood up, Beverly, slightly slow to follow her lead stood also.<p>

Bashir's gallant gear kicked in, 'May I escort you to your quarters ladies?' He held out an arm. 'No thank you Julian, that's quite al..' Troi. 'Why thank you Doctor, how kind. Shall we?' The response was quite unexpected. Especially as it had come from Crusher. He swallowed as she walked forward, holding her arm out for him to link in hers.

'Er, yes certainly. See you tomorrow Deanna', he called over his shoulder as he was practically propelled through the door. Now he was confused. Either he had his wires crossed or.. he glanced nervously at Beverly. No, his wires were fine, '_Help!_'

* * *

><p>'Sir, Cardassian warship approaching. Galor class.' The officer was nervous. He didn't like Cardassians. Which made him question why he had ever agreed to this lunacy to begin with. 'Good', came the reply, 'Gul Evek to the Kiert'at. One to beam over. Energize.' His form shimmered briefly and he was gone. The captain and his crew breathed a sigh of relief. Time to get out of harm's way.<p>

* * *

><p>'Centurion, lock disruptors on the Chervas.' Evek paused briefly, 'Fire!' The disruptor cannons spat briefly and the ship disappeared in a ball of brief flame. No warning. No raised shield. An easy target. No satisfaction could come from the destruction of such. Yet Evek smiled grimly. He was not positive that the Federation had placed a tracking device somewhere upon that ship. But he would have.<p>

* * *

><p>'Damn! Sorry, Captain, Commander.' Kira was angry, again. 'Quite all right, Colonel. I too regret the loss. Both of innocent lives, and of our one remaining line of inquiry.' Picard was magnanimous. 'Permission to make a suggestion sir.' He looked up. 'Granted Mr. Worf.'<p>

'Sir by now the Archon will be almost halfway to Qualor II. I suggest that we dispatch a ship to shadow her movements in the system. That is where this all began. The Hood is at present close at hand and would be able to perform that duty. Also I suggest that we put out a Federation wide inquiry regarding other sightings of the Archon, or any other unusually old starships, apparently still in service.' Riker stirred. 'Number One?' Then he nodded. 'Agreed sir, a good plan.' Picard indicated the Tactical station. 'Very well. Make it so Mr. Worf.'

* * *

><p>Bashir was sweating profusely. This was not going according to plan. What was supposed to have happened was that Deanna had agreed to the walk back to her cabin, while Beverly Crusher made her excuses and left. Not the reverse. Crusher also seemed rather more of a handful than Deanna, and he was not at all sure that he was up to the job.<p>

'_What is the matter with you Bashir?_', he asked himself angrily, '_here you are alone with a beautiful woman on your arm, by her choice. And you are quibbling over it not being the one you expected!_' He reminded himself that the current situation was by far the best he had managed, and decided to make the best of it. He realized that Beverly was eyeing him curiously.

'Penny for them.' He blinked. 'I'm sorry?' He decided, also, to try paying attention to his companion. 'Your thoughts. You were lost there for quite some time.' She smiled. 'Er, it was, er, nothing Doctor.' He gulped. 'You're disappointed aren't you? That I accepted your offer and not Deanna?'

'Absolutely not!' He hoped the affronted act was good enough for her. 'Ah, I thought so.' She sighed. Apparently it hadn't been. 'You called me Doctor', she explained, as if reading his mind, 'had you been comfortable in my company you would have remembered my name is..'

'Beverly', he interrupted her, 'look I admit that, maybe at first I was a little single-minded. But you are an attractive, intelligent woman. Not the sort of person I thought would have been remotely interested in me at all.' He hoped that would suffice as explanation. 'So', Beverly's eyes glinted mischievously, 'attractive, intelligent women are not interested in you. So where does that leave Deanna?'

The blood drained from Bashir's face as he realized the hole he had just fallen into. He looked around in his mind quickly for a ladder, but there was none to be found. He tried honesty as the best policy. 'Well, she isn't interested is she? I mean, after the business in the docking pylon and all.. Is she? You seem to be her best friend? Is she interested, or not?'

'Good answer. By the way, that wasn't meant as a trap. To answer your question though. I don't truthfully know. Deanna is involved with Lieutenant Worf. But that is going very slowly. For once Deanna is playing this one very close to her chest. If she has confided her true feelings to anyone, it isn't me. Sorry!'

'All right, I believe you. By the way, the other reason I was, well, surprised that you were the one to accept my offer. I would have thought that an attractive woman such as you would already have been involved with someone aboard the Enterprise. It stretched the bounds of credibility, for me, beyond breaking point that you could serve among five hundred plus men and not be involved with one of them. Unless of course they have no taste.'

'Why thank you Julian. That's very nice of you to say. But the sad truth is that you are right', she grinned, 'they have no taste. Here are my quarters. Would you care for a small nightcap?' He debated. Then decided. What harm could it do? He followed her in.

* * *

><p>'Ah, Jean-Luc, good to see you again. And Will. How are you? Still refusing your own command I see!' Captain Robert DeSoto, commanding officer of the Hood, Excelsior Class Federation starship, was on good form they all noted. 'Captain', Riker addressed Picard formally, 'permission to address Captain DeSoto?' Picard eyed him sceptically. This did not look good. For Robert DeSoto that was. Still, ship's honour.. He let his breath out through his teeth slowly. Then decided. 'Granted Number One.'<p>

Riker drew himself up to his full height. Unconsciously mimicking Picard's habit, he pulled down on the hem of his tunic. 'Captain DeSoto', he began, 'Firstly I would like to point out that no command has been offered to me which I deem worthy of my many talents. Even the Hood, Starfleet Command must be thinking of retiring some of their more elderly staff..'

Even Picard looked sideways at Will at that. He was after all, older than DeSoto. By some wide margin. Riker continued, 'and anyway, I think that a first officer's duty is to his Captain, keeping him out of trouble, no matter how much he wishes to get into it. And I'm good at that. Besides, First Officer keeps me out of trouble', he finished with a broad grin.

DeSoto to his credit took the banter in good cheer. He grinned back at them. 'Amen to that! Am I right Jean Luc?' Picard nodded his assent. 'All right, playtime's over. You must have had a very good reason to call me Priority One. What can the Starfleet flagship, Sovereign class, possibly want with a poor old Excelsior class commanded by, what was it? Oh yes, one of the more 'elderly' officers currently in service.' Picard smiled, 'We have a problem Robert. We need you to do a little job for us. We need you to observe the movements of the U.S.S. Archon, which should..'

'Hold on. I'm sorry Jean-Luc, but did you say the Archon? I thought that old wreck was long gone!' DeSoto was confused. 'So did I', Picard returned wryly. For DeSoto's benefit he recounted, again, the events of the past few days. As expected DeSoto was not impressed. He had served with distinction for many years on the Cardassian front when it was active and incursions common. To be faced with the possibility of a return to the same sorry state of affairs did not please him at all. He voiced his concerns in this respect. Loudly and at great length. Picard allowed him his head.

Eventually though he held up his hand. DeSoto quieted. 'Precisely why we chose you for the task Robert.'

'I thought it was because the Hood was the only ship in the area capable of doing the job.' DeSoto grinned. 'That too', Picard admitted, 'are we agreed Robert?'

'Yes Jean-Luc. I will attempt to coax my geriatric frame into the command chair, one last time before my frail old body gives up on me entirely', here he broke off and glowered benignly at Will, before continuing, 'I will then trail the Archon on long range sensors. Assuming the Cardassians have merely retained the shell, but have entirely refitted the weapons, sensor suites and engineering section to current standards. We are sufficiently ahead of the Cardassians to be able to trail them on long range and yet remain outside of their own field of detection. We will report back to you in seventy-two hours with our findings.'

'Until then. Good hunting Robert.' Picard nodded. 'To you too. Good luck Jean-Luc.' The Federation Seal replaced the face of DeSoto onscreen.

'Comments?' He waited. 'None sir', Riker replied, 'it seems, for now as if all we can do is wait.'

'I disagree', Kira interjected, 'Captain, we can use this time to study all the information we've got this far to see if there is anything we may have overlooked. Also we can maintain a permanent scan on Cardassian space. I have the sensor logs of the ship that destroyed the Chervas. If it strays near us again it may bear watching.' Considering both, Picard nodded sagely, 'Agreed, to both comments. While the majority of us are, as you rightly point out Commander, 'spare parts' at the moment, there is much work that can be accomplished in the interim until the Hood reports in. That said. I believe that now would be an opportune time for us all to take advantage of the temporary lull and gain some much-needed rest. Dismissed.'

* * *

><p>'Beverly, I'm shocked! You didn't?' Troi put down her spoon. 'Yes I did, and why not?' Deanna and Beverly were sat at a table on the Promenade. Both now back in uniform, despite being off duty. Deanna had just recovered from nearly choking on a piece of double chocolate sundae, her favourite dessert. She had to have had severe provocation for that to happen! Nothing came between Deanna and her dessert. Usually. 'Because.. because.. I don't know why not! But you couldn't have!'<p>

'I could and I did!' Beverly responded tartly, 'Now are you going to eat that last cake, or must I?' Troi was befuddled. 'Er, you have it', the reply underlined the depth of Deanna's feelings in the matter.

* * *

><p>Bashir awoke slowly. Lying as he was on his face, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. Especially after the previous night. His head hurt. 'It's green', had been the replicator's somewhat unhelpful description. He'd had the distinct feeling that something was being hidden from him.<p>

Hmmm. 'Well now you know what!', his skull retorted. From ancient Earth texts he had once read in preparation for a thesis on the subject of intoxicating Beverlys.. er beverages. Er, what? He shook his head. Instantly provoking a hammering action that dropped him like a stone to the pillow. Anyway, apparently the correct description for the course he had undertaken was a 'bender', this apparently being one of a 'serious' nature. Hmmm. He made a mental note on what remained of his cerebral notepad not to do so again.

Gingerly he reached for a hypospray, loading it with a suitable painkiller. Then pressed it against his neck and touched the actuator. Aah, blessed relief. He was now ready to face the world. The male populated half anyway. The other didn't bear thinking about!

Slowly, for some reason his limbs were still not at a hundred per cent efficiency, he dressed, took a sonic shower and left to begin his shift. Trying to avoid dwelling on the night's events. He almost succeeded too. But not quite. A small smile escaped his lips.

* * *

><p>Guinan was amused. Data was obviously trying out a new humour subroutine on Commander LaForge. Not surprisingly Geordie was having trouble with it. They approached. The grin faded from Guinan's face as the realisation came that she too may have to partake of the offerings. Having suffered at the hands of Data's funnybone, she dismissed the mixed metaphor, in an abortive holodeck encounter, she did not want any more.<p>

'..So the Klingon shopkeeper says, get this Geordie, the Klingon shopkeeper says, 'Well how do you think he fell off?' LaForge growled. 'Data! Enough!' Apparently the standard of humour was up to its normal level. Or should that be down to it? Data seemed mildly confused. 'But Geordie, do you not see? When the..'

'Yes', the frustrated officer broke in, 'I see, but Data, that joke is just not funny any more!' Data was puzzled. 'But you found it humorous when Commander Riker told it six months ago on Risa!' replied the android. 'Yes, but that was six months ago! When I didn't know the ending. When the joke was new. And when I hadn't heard it seventeen times in a row!'

'Ah. So the humour content of a joke is relative to the number of times it is heard, and the time-span over the repetition of its telling?' The frustrated engineer moaned; 'Yes! Guinan', he turned to her pleading, 'help me out here, can't you?'

'Ah, Lieutenant Ogawa, what can I get you?' Guinan rarely refused a challenge. But sometimes it was better to know when to admit defeat, retreat and regroup. Geordie thought it may have been coincidence that Alyssa Ogawa was at the other end of the large bar dominating one side of Ten Forward. Also that Guinan had chosen that precise moment to develop a hearing impairment. But he doubted it. 'Coward!' He muttered darkly. He returned his attention to the bemused android, and sighed.

* * *

><p>'Shields up! Red Alert! Bring phasers to full readiness. Arm photon torpedoes.'<p>

* * *

><p>'Good game Commander!'<p>

'Thank.. you.. Chief', heaved Riker. Parrises Squares was not a game for the faint hearted. Or, thought Will wryly, for someone of his age. He was just not fit enough any more. Mind you, the others seemed, if possible, to be in even worse shape than he. Which did not bode well for their futures at all.

He mopped his face with a towel and stumbled towards the corner, once again regretting the rash impulse that had led him to challenge Miles O'Brien and Kira Nerys to a game of Parrises Squares. He looked over at his partner. 'Not bad Geordie.' A pair of bright blue eyes regarded him balefully. The Enterprise' Chief Engineer was exhausted.

'Commander, with all due respect, if you ever con me into something like this again, I'll.. I'll..' Words failed him. 'Come on, I'll buy you a drink on the Promenade', Will stood, stretching and walked out of the holodeck where the game had taken place. Geordie, every muscle and sinew of his body screaming for relief, followed him, slowly.

They made their way to the Promenade and found a table overlooking the main walkway of the Promenade itself. As Will left to fetch the promised drink Geordie collapsed into a chair. It was his first visit to DS9, he had been unable to find time to leave the ship on their last visit. So far, he was not impressed, and he did not envy O'Brien his job in keeping the old station running smoothly, if at all. Talking of whom.. He winced as a large hand clapped him on a very sore shoulder.

'Commander, mind if we join you?' O'Brien was in jubilant mood. He had fully expected to lose heavily in the game. Worf not taking part had been a major bonus. His prowess in the game was undoubted. And feared. 'Sure, no problem', Geordie massaged his shoulder, feebly attempting to instil some life back into what was rapidly becoming a numb arm. They sat opposite him, and Geordie eyed Kira Nerys thoughtfully. He'd heard, from Will Riker about this one. A tough customer, and not to be crossed. 'Don't even think it!' had been Will's advice. Advice to be noted, and, given the source, seriously obeyed. 'So, Chief, you still managing to keep this heap together?'

'This wonderful station', retorted O'Brien hotly, and not without a certain degree of irony, 'is operating in absolutely first class condition. There have been no problems to speak..'

Will Riker returned, interrupting O'Brien's reply. 'There you go Geordie, only ordinary synthahol I'm afraid. Apparently the replicators are malfunctioning', he smiled benignly at O'Brien, 'I'm sorry Chief, I interrupted you I think, please finish what you were saying.'

'It wasn't important', muttered O'Brien darkly. He was sure Will had heard his comments and was pulling his leg. 'So, how's life in the fast lane?' he continued. 'Can't complain. Well, I could but who'd listen?' LaForge smiled. 'You still chasing Christie Henshaw?' Geordie's arm shuddered to a halt, his lips almost touching his glass. Slowly he put down the glass and turned to face O'Brien, and replied. 'Don't you have anything better to do Chief? Like maybe, diaper to change? Or something else, like a replicator', he held up his glass, examining it, 'to repair, for instance.'

'No rush, I'll get someone on it', he tapped his communicator, 'O'Brien to Ensign Davies. The replicators on the Promenade are acting up again. Have a look at it will you?'

'Aye sir', the connection was terminated. 'Talking of diapers', O'Brien resumed, 'Commander..'

'Unh unh', Will set his glass down firmly, 'babies to me are like Orion Slave Girls. Nice to look at but I wouldn't want to own one!' They all sat regarding him with looks of varying degrees of disbelief. He grew uncomfortable, quickly. 'What? What?', it then occurred that his last sentence did sound just a little bit implausible, in the same way that a reactor containment failure would be a little bit bad for the ship it occurred on. 'Oh, O.K. Bad example. But you get my point. Anyway', he continued, rapidly changing the subject, 'who's for another?'


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

* * *

><p>The ship rocked with the impact, the IDF unable to compensate sufficiently. The shields were being drained dangerously by the repeated vicious assaults. Flight was the only sensible course, but then he'd never been overtly sensible. Will Riker could testify to that he thought grimly, '<em>If I ever get to see him again!<em>' He returned his attention to the current desperate situation. 'Full power to the shields!' He cursed. 'Engineering I need more shields!' He duck as a shower of sparks burst from Tactical. 'You've got all I have sir!' Growling he spat; 'I need more!' The reply was urgent, 'Sorry sir!'

'Damn! Helm, full about, course 180 mark 4. Warp 9. Get us the hell out of here! Now! Tactical, lay a spread of photon torpedoes across their bows, maximum yield. That should slow them down some! I hope!' He sat back in the command chair as his orders were carried out. Hoping that his actions were enough. It seemed they had been. After a brief attempt at pursuit, their attacker dropped back, allowing them to escape in safety.

As he slumped deep in thought he was interrupted by a quiet cough to his right. He turned to his first officer expectantly. 'Yes, Number One, what is it?'

'Damage assessment from all decks now in sir.. And casualty figures.' He sat stunned. It had been so long since.. And yet, the phrase seemed so hauntingly familiar. His mind flashed back to the Cardassian border incursions, his ship ablaze, limping home from yet another encounter. Ambushed by three Cardassian Galor Class warships. Most of his command crew dead or injured, the bridge manned mainly by ensigns fresh out of the Academy. There had been seven Star Crosses, six Legions of Honour, and four Medals of Honour awarded that day. All of them posthumously. Not for the destruction of the warships either, but for saving the lives of their comrades trapped in burning sections of the ship, or preventing further deaths by remaining at their posts when such action was known to mean certain death.

'Er, sir', his first officer, also a veteran of the same conflicts, was wary of interrupting his reverie, and very loath to do so. He snapped himself out of it. Dwelling on the past now would not help, and may even kill the present crew. 'Yes Number One, the figures', he waited dreading the response. 'Sir we escaped materially lightly. The shields have taken a severe battering and will require about three hours to recalibrate and restore to full power. Photon Torpedo Tube One was hit and will require two hours repair time. And decks five through sixteen have all sustained light to moderate damage where the shields began to break down.' He paused.

'Yes, you said 'materially lightly'. What about personnel? Don't spoon feed me, dammit!' DeSoto was angry. 'Er, no sir. In total we lost twenty-one crew, six from engineering, three from medical.. And twelve from security.' He looked up to the tactical station. The ship's security chief was stood looking forward to the viewscreen to the front, but seeing nothing. There was a grim set to his jaw that they all knew, recognized, and sympathized with. They pitied the next man to cross this angry young officer.

The first officer continued slowly, addressing himself to the security officer. 'You should know this. That all your staff behaved in an exemplary fashion, and that the loss of life was incurred as a direct result of their attempts to save the lives of their comrades in arms.'

'No they died at the hands of a cowardly Cardassian!' came the response, in words of granite, between gritted teeth. The captain stood, walked forward and turned. He faced them all, hands clasped behind his back.

'All decks, this is the Captain. Stop what you are doing and listen. As you are aware we have just taken part in an armed conflict. During which it is my sad duty to report that we incurred the loss of twenty-one of your comrades. Let it be known, and recorded in the Ship's Log of this date, that they died, without exception carrying out acts of heroism above and beyond the call of duty, in the majority of cases attempting to save the lives of others of you. And it is in this way that we will remember them.

It is customary on Earth to obey a minute's silence for the loss of comrades in this way. I would be grateful if you would all regardless of species, creed or colour, join me in the observing of this tradition. Please, wherever you are, all stand and face toward the front of the ship.'

In example he turned his back on the bridge to face the emptiness of space, the stars streaking by. Not for the first time following loss of his crew he blinked back tears. He was not hewn from stone any more than any of his peers, but felt the burden of loss more heavily than most. He cleared his eyes with his left hand. Then stood at attention.

'They shall not grow old, as we who are left grow old

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn

In the morning, and at the going down of the sun

We will remember them.'

Throughout the hull the entire crew followed suit and did as he had requested. For a full sixty seconds not a sound was uttered. Wherever an eye was cast the officers stood, ranked facing towards the bow of the ship, at attention. Not a muscle flexed, an eyelid flickered. Not a sound to break the deathly hush of remembrance.

He broke the spell, 'Thank you everyone. Return to your stations. Memorial services where appropriate will take place over the next five days. Captain out. Helm set a course for DS9, maximum warp available. Jean-Luc will want to hear of this!'

* * *

><p>'Henry, yes, what is it?' He listened intently for thirty seconds, then, 'Damnation!' He thundered, 'Computer! Get me Jean-Luc Picard! Flag Officer's Priority Channel. Immediately!' He was furious. At the loss of life, at being caught unprepared, 'Hell, at being caught at all!' He swore to himself. The screen cleared abruptly, the seal being replaced by Picard's concerned features, worry etching every line of his face. 'Yes Admiral, I've heard. Where the hell did they get a cloaking device from?'<p>

'I'd ask Kira's friend Martok about that. He plays his cards too damned close to his chest that one. See what you can do.' Jean-Luc nodded. 'Agreed, unless there is anything further?' A shake of the head, no, 'then I shall start immediately, Picard out.'

* * *

><p>General Martok. Supreme Commander of the Klingon Defence Force, and Leader of the High Council. Not an easy man to gain an audience with as Picard was, once again, finding out.<p>

'NuqneH?' _What do you want?_ A typically Klingon opening. 'I wish to speak with General Martok.' The response. 'The General is a very busy man!' Picard glowered; 'I realize that. However, when he hears what I have to say I feel that he will wish to speak with me! It is a matter of great importance to both the Federation _and_ the Empire. And sooner rather than later', Picard's diplomatic reserves were running low. Very low. He leaned back in his chair, fighting an urge to bang his fist down on his desk in frustration. That would not help. Although one never knew with Klingons. 'Do'Ha!' _That is unfortunate_. Not at all helpful.

'Captain', broke in Worf, 'may I?' A nod was his answer, 'I therefore wish to speak with the Emperor Kahless. If General Martok will not assist us then perhaps the Emperor will.' The aide shook his head. 'I cannot disturb the Emper..' Imperiously. 'Qu'vatlh!' Exploded Worf angrily, 'TlhIb qoH! _Incompetent fool!_ Yes you can! You will. If you do not I will be.. _irritated_. _Very_ irritated. Enterprise out.' He turned to Picard. 'Sir, he knows me. He also knows that I will do as I say. Or that Kurn may be asked to act in my stead. And he fears the wrath of Kurn.' He paused, then continued, not without some surprise, 'we are being hailed sir. By Qo'nos. It is Kahless himself!'

'Reply Mr. Worf.' The screen opened onto a scene of darkness. Thick pillars stretched high towards the distant ceiling. The centre was dominated by a huge stone-carved throne, on which the bulk of Kahless the Unforgettable, or at least a very good clone of him, had reposed for the past two and a half years. He was there now, and looking jovial, for a Klingon anyway.

'NuqneH Worf? My aide seems very upset with you.' Amused. 'TlhIb qoH! I need information.' Worf cut straight to the purpose. 'What sort of information?'

'Captain?' Worf deferred to Picard for the answer. 'We have a problem Emperor. It seems that a hostile cloaked vessel is loose within Federation space. Because of its' origin we do not believe that the device currently being used is Romulan in origin. Which leaves only one option. Obviously we are allies, so this would have to be a theft from the Imperial Klingon Defence Force. I need to know if such a theft has taken place, or if any vessel has gone missing with a cloaking device and has not been recovered as yet.'

'A cloaked vessel? Surely not a problem for the Federation flagship, and the great Captain Picard?' Martok, it appeared, had suddenly found time to interfere. 'Very well. But this information goes no further. Computer, secure this channel', a flurry of bleeps was the response, 'the reason that the Federation is so worried, and you should be too, is this. The vessel in question is a Galaxy Class starship.' Martok's eyes narrowed, 'Under whose command?'

'We believe, the Cardassians.' Picard replied. Martok was not happy. He was very angry. 'TlhIH TlhIb qoHpu!'

'Name-calling gets us nowhere. We admit fault. But so must the Empire for allowing the loss of a cloaking device to an enemy, and one without any honour whatsoever! Now that that is out of the way, perhaps we can resume our discussions? I need to know if there is any way to detect or disable the cloaking device once we have found the vessel carrying it. And I need to know now.' Martok shook his head. 'No, there is no way to disable the device. However, I can offer you the squadron under the command of Worf's brother, Kurn to aid you in your search.'

Picard sighed. It was not the answer he had been hoping for, but he had to concede, it was better than nothing. Just. 'Thank you, agreed. We are currently docked at station DS9. We will rendezvous with Kurn in 48 hours. Picard out.'

'Goodbye Picard. Qapla' Worf.' Worf growled. 'Qapla'!' The connection was broken.

* * *

><p>'Medical Emergency! Doctor Bashir please report to the Promenade immediately!' He swore, dropped his drink where he stood, and grabbed his case as he ran from the room. Crusher followed him, quickly surmising that she may be able to assist in whatever the problem was. He was glad of the help, although not entirely settled in his mind about her motives towards him as yet.<p>

They reached the source of the accident in under a minute. As he skidded to a halt, Bashir dropped to one knee by the side of the injured party, Ensign Davies. He was appalled. The young officer had apparently been working on a nearby replicator. It looked as though the power conduit serving the unit had exploded, for the ensign was whimpering from the pain of massive plasma burns to his face and upper torso.

'Bashir to O'Brien. Chief I need an emergency transport for three from my location to sickbay. Bashir out.' He felt the familiar pulling sensation. His vision blurred, blacked out then reappeared. He, Beverly and Davies were now in sickbay. 'Help me get him onto a couch', he instructed her. She was way ahead of him, already gently raising up the stricken ensign's torso. Bashir took his legs and they gently lifted him onto the bed. He reached for a hypospray, only to find it being handed to him by Crusher. He looked at her questioningly.

'Women's intuition! And also a good guess.' He let it go and applied the hypospray to Davies' neck. Almost immediately he relaxed, and the relaxation intensified as he slipped into unconsciousness before their eyes. 'Now the hard part!' Bashir breathed. 'Need a hand?'

'I wouldn't say no. Thought you'd never ask! Oh, sorry, you mean with the operation!' Bashir smiled innocently. Crusher was not fooled. 'Now where have I heard that line before?'

'Well I heard it in a History class at the Academy', he ducked the slap heading his way, 'Anyway, back to business.' He picked up a container of a synthetic skin substitute and opened it. He hated these jobs. There was always residual scarring. Which apart from the distress to the patient, deeply offended his professional pride.

* * *

><p>Aboard the rogue Galaxy the air was full of triumph. The new crew, barely had time to get to grips with their new charge before being thrust into battle for the first time. And they had emerged victorious, their foe fleeing before their eyes. 'Excellent work, my friend!' Gul Macet was on good form. 'Thank you', Evek was being overly modest, 'but the real accolade must go to the engineering crews. They had less than two hours warning of the Hood's arrival, and yet still they managed not only to fit the dilithium crystal articulation frame and calibrate the new crystals delivered. They still had time to move us over the magnetic pole of Qualor II to disguise our presence while they installed the stolen cloaking device. I want commendations for every one of them!'<p>

'Agreed. But first we have to get back to Cardassia Prime. And that will not be made easy for us. The Federation are aware of us now, and although they may be unable to stop us, or if they do not find us, to prove that we do indeed possess this ship, it will not stop them from trying. We have given them a bloody nose. And a wounded animal is by far more dangerous than a placid one.

They will be out to get us, and as I believe an old Earth saying goes, they will be 'loaded for bear'!'

'On that note. Helm set a direct course for Cardassia Prime, Warp 6. Engage.'

* * *

><p>DeSoto was looking very worn they all noticed. Gone was the previous ebullience, the devilish attitude. He was now far more serious, and grim. They knew the loss of a large number of his crew, and they sympathized. It was Picard who was first to break the uneasy silence. 'Robert, good to see you again, alive. My deepest condolences to you, your crew and their families on your loss.'<p>

The head rose slowly. The eyes dulled. 'Thank you Jean-Luc', he sounded deathly tired, they noticed, 'It's been a rough couple of days. The fighting was short. But so costly.'

'Sir, if I may ask?' Riker inquired gently, 'who was lost in the battle?' Dreading the answer. DeSoto regarded him sadly, knowing the reason for the inquiry. Hating the fact that he had to hurt such a good friend. 'I'm sorry Will', he paused, 'yes, Kelly was one of the number killed. She was in med-lab when a hit dislodged a bio-containment field generator.

She stayed to repair the generator, knowing that in doing so she would save all our lives, infecting herself, and costing her own. We will all remember her with sadness and pride.'

Riker's face was ashen. His features solidified as if carved from rock. His eyes were rock steady, a dangerous glint shining from them as from a laser boring through an uncut diamond. Troi regarded him with concern. She had never felt such a wave of anger and hatred for any species as that which washed over her from Riker at that moment. She had thought she knew him. But the Will Riker she knew was physically incapable of such feelings. She was worried.

She touched his arm gently. He started, jerking his arm away quickly. Now she was alarmed. 'Will, are you all right?' When he looked at her the alarm turned to fear. The expression on his face, or lack of it, was totally alien to his character. His reply did not convince her. 'Yes.. Yes, I'm fine. Kelly was an old friend that's all. As Captain DeSoto said, she will be badly missed.' But there was more to it than that. Troi resolved to dig into him until WiI opened up and told her the whole true story. Feelings such as he was harbouring now could only prove damaging in the future, and must be bought out into the open, and laid to rest. He turned to Picard, 'Captain, if I may?'

'Certainly Number One.' Riker rose and strode out of the office. Troi looked at Picard questioningly. He nodded. She too stood and left to follow Riker. Worf coughed, almost, for a Klingon, embarrassed. They looked at him. 'Sir, if I may ask, what armaments did the ship carry, and how effective is the cloak in operation?' Strangely it felt good to embrace the technical issues, and they set to burying themselves in their work, the human element almost gone. But never completely.

* * *

><p>He was walking fast. Almost too fast for her to catch him. His superior height gave him an advantage that was almost impossible to overcome. So she didn't try. 'Will!' No response. 'Will, stop! Please!' He paused, speaking without turning to face her. 'Not this time Imzadi. Not this time.' He resumed walking.<p>

She ran to catch him up as he entered his quarters. Catching his arm, she swung him round. 'Will, I've never seen you like this. Your face, your emotions. They're totally alien to me. And to you too. Tell me, please, who was Kelly? I know she was special. When you spoke to Captain DeSoto I felt the importance of your question. And the grief you felt hearing his reply. But I also know that you..'

_'Dammit Deanna, leave it!_' He bellowed. She continued unabated, as if he had never spoken. '.. need to release those feelings. If you don't they will eat away at you, eventually destroy you. And I won't let that happen! You're too important. To the ship, to Starfleet, to your friends. And especially to me. Will, you have always known that ours was no simple friendship. I've always known what you are feeling, as the same is true in reverse. And you have always been there for me when I needed you. Please, let me help you now. Let a friend share the burden.. Please.'

Will Riker sat with his back to her, head in his hands, slumped onto a chair in the corner of the room, and as Deanna watched him his shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. Presently the sound of racking sobs came from him as all the pent-up fury dissipated. Deanna stood and paced quietly over to his side. Gently she lay one hand on his shoulder, while the other cupped his chin.

Slowly she raised his head until he was facing her. With one finger she carefully wiped the tears from his face. Then pulled him to her. He put his arms around her waist, and there they stayed. Silent and still, for a long time.

Eventually Will spoke. 'I loved her Deanna.' Quiet. 'I know', she replied softly. 'No you don't! I.. loved.. her. I.. was going to ask her', he paused, then raised his head to look at her. He looked straight into her eyes. He concluded, 'I was going to ask her to marry me.'

Deanna stopped, shocked. It was the first time Will had ever spoken to her of another love. To find out that it was one he'd intended to marry was a double shock. 'You've never mentioned her to me.'

'It didn't seem important. She seemed to lose interest. I still don't know why.. and then I was posted to the Enterprise, and we lost touch. I didn't tell you because.. this sounds stupid.. because I thought you might be jealous.' He sighed. 'You guessed right!' She replied hotly, then grinned. 'Really Will, I thought you knew me better than that. She was a current love. And I had already made my feelings abundantly clear on the subject of us.'

'Imzadi! Forever!' They chorused, and laughed. Will Riker gazed at her and smiled up at her. 'What are you thinking?' She asked; 'About how easily you turned me around. And how much having a friend like you means to me.'

'Come on, there's work to be done!' She held out her hand. and he took it. Together they left his quarters, hand in hand. They knew that the crisis was over. Will Riker was his old self again. Any Cardassians straying too close to him in the near future would have their lifespan drastically shortened. Or at least the remainder would be made exceedingly uncomfortable. They both knew that. But he was Will Riker again. That was what really mattered.

* * *

><p>They stripped off their operating gowns and threw them in the waste disposal. Wearily they staggered toward the door, then they slumped together on the chair in the corner. 'Good job Doctor.' He smiled. 'You too Doctor.' She glanced at him. 'I couldn't have done it without you, Doctor.' Smiling. 'Nor I, you, Doctor.' He laughed. 'What is it?'<p>

'Sorry, I just remembered something else from my old history classes. An old Earth saying, from the Chinese, goes something like this.. Man who claps himself on back in danger of breaking his arm.' She laughed out loud. Then looked at him curiously. 'Julian, may I ask you something?' He eyed her dubiously. This did not sound too good at all. '_something_' usually meant personal, and given the source of the inquiry he was concerned. 'Er.. computer, Regulan tea, hot', he was playing for time, and they both knew it. _Well why not?_ 'O.K., what do you want to know?'

'About last night', he had been reaching for his drink from the replicator. He froze, and turned to regard her. 'Yes?' He replied slowly. 'Why did you leave so quickly? All I wanted to do was give you a kiss goodnight. You had been really good company, a perfect gentleman. And I wanted to thank you for that. In my own way.' His brain began racing through the night's events. The surprise of finding himself alone in the quarters of another officer. An attractive.. make that very attractive.. female officer's quarters at that. The agreement to a nightcap, and the subsequent swapping of stories of daring do in the field of medicine until the small hours. And the tales of their youth, of their exploits in Starfleet Academy. Beverly noting that her memory had had to work harder than his to remember her youth.

And his feigned surprise. Denials that she would have had to work at all to remember her youth. Her reaction to his flattery. His own panic at her reaction. In reflection it was stupid. She had only offered him a cup of her grandmother's herbal tea. All right, so when she returned she had been dressed rather less formally than she had before. Which considering the lack of material that had been required for the dress was rather eye opening. Not to mention, in his case, frightening. So he had made his excuses and left. In a hurry.

'_You fool!_' He cursed himself. Then turned to her. 'I.. I don't suppose that the offer is still open, is it?' He inquired a little sheepishly. 'Well I don't know', she began, then smiled, 'of course it is Julian.'

'Then, dinner tonight? My quarters this time?' He inquired, nervously. 'Yes, I'd like that. 1900 all right?' Crusher smiled. 'Certainly. Well I have to go. See you tonight.' She blew him a kiss as he left the room. Whatever she had been drinking, he wanted some. Obviously she was still on a high from the night before. He began to sweat. _Julian, what have you done?_

* * *

><p>'Now, if we are all present?' Nods of assent from around the table. 'You all know the current situation. I want suggestions gentlemen, and ladies.'<p>

'Gather a task-force and use a tachyon grid to sweep Federation space along the course they have to take between Qualor II and Cardassia Prime.' Geordie. 'A good idea Mr. LaForge. But how do we know what course they will take?' Kira spoke. 'They are Cardassians. Creatures of habit. They will want to get home with their prize as quickly as possible. To avoid detection, and the diplomatic incident which would be caused. And also to avoid losing their prize. I think Commander LaForge is right!'

'Colonel', Odo stepped in, 'I believe we are all aware of the Romulan/Duras incident where the use of a tachyon grid prevented border incursions into Klingon space. But I believe I am correct in saying that the idea only worked because the course and speed and location of the convoy was known. All that was required was to expose the location at the right moment. The Romulans would then scurry home. However, even the coverage of that relatively small area required approximately twenty ships. There is no way that I think we can coordinate the number of ships an area the size we are talking about would require.' He turned to Picard, 'Would you say that was an accurate assessment Captain?'

'Yes Constable, I believe so. Also, what is not generally known, and what Mr. LaForge is forgetting, is that the plan was nearly rendered useless by a broadband tachyon pulse from the Romulan convoy, which blinded our sensors. It was only the actions of Mr. Data, commanding the Sutherland, which prevented them from escaping the snare', he turned, 'A good idea Mr. LaForge, sadly in this case, impractical.'

'Aren't we missing something? Wouldn't the perimeter sensors detect the passage of the Cardassian ship?'

'Yes, and no, Counsellor. Yes they would detect the passage of _a_ ship. No, they would _not_ register it as a Threat vessel. You forget, it is essentially a Federation vessel. I think it highly unlikely that having gained control of a Federation starship that the Cardassians would be slipshod enough to omit acquiring an authentic subspace ID transponder. However, I will send a message to Starfleet Command requesting that we be informed of any unusual ID signatures, which are logged in the next few days. Anyone else?' He waited. Riker, silent until now, spoke up. 'Captain, a thought regarding the subspace ID transponder. What if the E-D's transponder is still functional? No reason to think it isn't and if it is all we need to do is confine our request to sightings of the E-D over the last couple of days. The Cardassians are almost as devious as our poker group', he grinned, 'and their sense of irony might be piqued by using our own ship against us.'

Picard considered this briefly. 'Make it so.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

* * *

><p>The door chime required his attention. He swore. He was due to collect Beverly from her quarters in less than five minutes, and he was behind schedule. 'Yes? Come in!'<p>

The door opened to reveal - Ezri Dax - out of uniform, very out of it he noticed, clearly this was to be a social call. He blinked rapidly. This was starting to get confusing. The timing was beginning to get on his nerves. '_Mars colony shuttles_', he thought, '_wait for hours, and then two arrive together!_'

'Are you busy?' She inquired. 'Well I was just..' She continued; 'Only I'm a bit confused..'

'Ezri, look, I'm sorry, but I'm a bit busy right now. Can this wait?' He rushed past her grabbing his jacket, 'Can you make sure the door is secure when you leave? Thanks!'

He ran up the corridor, and stopped. '_What did I just do?_' He shook his head irritably. It was beyond him. He walked on and boarded the turbo-lift to the guest quarters. He was breathing heavily. He tried to smooth down his hair. Pulled on his jacket and checked his appearance as best he could. Stepping off the lift, he strode swiftly to the second door on his left. Pressed the actuator on the door courtesy panel, and waited.

* * *

><p>'You all know your orders?' Nods of agreement from all present, 'Good, then dismissed. Commander Riker, I will meet you back on the Enterprise in one hour. Until then you have the bridge. Colonel Kira, good luck and I'll speak to you in 48 hours. Captain DeSoto, you will remain here until repairs are completed on the Hood. Then contact me on the agreed channel and we will arrange our rendezvous. That is all.'<p>

They all filed quietly out of the briefing room, conversation muted. As they left, Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Federation flagship, the Sovereign Class starship U.S.S. Enterprise, registry NCC-1701-E, sighed deeply. He turned to the window behind him and gazed out at the heavens. How peaceful they looked.

He was by nature a peaceful man. Poet. Explorer. Diplomat. Yet the course fate had chosen for him allowed none of these qualities. He knew that there was only one way for this mission to end. For the Peace Treaty between the Federation and the Cardassian Union to survive, the rogue ship must be destroyed. For the Cardassians would never admit to possession of the ship. Until they were able to use it against the Federation that is. For them to be caught in possession of the ship would destroy the Treaty and could very easily result in a renewed conflict. In which the previously Federation colonies now within the Cardassian border would suffer very badly. The Maquis would mobilize in full strength, probably gaining fresh support and supplies. In short the border region would be bathed in blood. He shivered in revulsion at the prospect.

* * *

><p>The door slid open and he gulped nervously. It appeared that there was a change of plan. Beverly did not appear to be planning to leave her quarters that night. She was draped seductively over a couch placed in the centre of the room. Her dress was of a pale blue material, translucent in places. Very interesting places. And it was short. Just below the knee, but split up to the thigh at the left side. As her legs were crossed towards him, this feature presented a very interesting view of her very long legs. He realized she was speaking.<p>

'Are you just going to stand there with your mouth open? Or are you going to come in?' She inquired, adding sarcastically, 'I would suggest the latter, you're causing a draught.' He was about to mention that the climate control shouldn't allow any draughts, but caught himself just in time. Sarcasm, he could recognize. He shut off his vocal operations and managed to gain control of his limbs. He entered the room, and walked over to where she was seated. He waited nervously.

'Well sit down, I won't bite! Yet.' A look of pure terror crossed his face, 'Just kidding, relax for God's sake! Come, sit by me.' She patted the seat next to her. He did as she asked, but sat at the opposite end of the couch. She was not pleased with this action, and slid across towards him. He eyed her apprehensively. There was no escape. 'What's the matter? Changed your mind?'

'No, no, of course not. It's just that, er, well I'm not usually this successful with women and what happens from here is completely new ground as far as I'm concerned. I'm sorry if I appear a bit nervous.'

'A bit nervous', she repeated, 'a bit nervous. You're a bit nervous like a Nausicaan is a bit ugly. And they are most definitely not the prettiest of species I've ever met. Look, just sit back, relax and let me do all the work.' He relaxed visibly. Heaving a sigh of relief he looked across at her. 'So what happens now?' For an answer, she called, 'Computer, a Latin American tune, a tango I think', the music started softly in the background. She stood up and took hold of his hands, and guided him towards her. He realized that she intended to dance. Not a good idea, given his extreme lack of coordination. He voiced his concern. 'You may regret this. Other people have two left feet. I have two entire left-hand sides of my body! I am grossly incompetent at dancing!'

'Hey, I taught Data to dance! I wasn't known as the dancing doctor in med school for nothing! Incidentally, if anyone else ever finds out about that nickname..' She let the sentence hang in the air before continuing, 'You should be easy after that!' She winced at the memory. Tap dancing he'd been good at. The rest of it.. She shuddered at the memory.

'All right, but don't say I didn't warn you!' With serious misgivings, he took her hand and placed the other at her waist. She swayed her hips to the rhythm. Then at the start of the next bar they stepped forward. In opposite directions. He trod squarely on her instep. She swore and stumbled backwards. Regarding him dubiously, she rubbed her ankle ruefully.

'Ah well, never let it be said that I refused a challenge. Come here, we'll try again. This time watch where you put your feet!' The second attempt was rather more successful. Not being overburdened with any ego to speak of, Bashir was quite happy to let Crusher lead, if only slightly. It gave him the chance to anticipate her next move, and keep his feet out of her way. He began to relax. He was getting good at this. Ambitious too. He let go of her waist and spun her around. She laughed happily, and then it happened..

As she reached the end of her turn she slipped. Julian felt a tug on his arm as she fell backwards. Overbalancing, it seemed, was contagious. He too fell to the floor. Landing on top of her. She was about to sit up when she looked into his eyes.

Their lips met. Gently at first, touching lightly. Bashir felt a small shock pass through his spine at the touch. They wrapped their arms around each other. Their bodies drew closer together. Bashir and Crusher began to lose themselves in the passion of the moment. As they began to explore each other, nervously at first..

It happened.

Beverly's communicator invaded their privacy. She cursed, and reached up onto the table where she had left it. Tapping the dermal sensor built into its face she spoke. 'Yes? Crusher here!'

'Doctor, your presence aboard the Enterprise would be welcome.' Picard. His voice brooked no argument. 'Aye sir. I'll be there shortly. Crusher out!' She looked, regretfully, at Bashir, and struggling, rose to her feet. Holding out her hand, she helped him rise. They stood regarding each other. Each knowing that there was a difficult and dangerous mission ahead for the other. That there was the possibility that this would be their last meeting. Bashir reached for her hand. She spoke first. 'Take care of yourself. I'm not finished with you yet. And I never leave a project half done. So watch your back.'

'You're the one at the sharp end. Keep your head down. I like it the way it is. If you die, I'll kill you.' His attempt at humour failed. Badly. The silence lengthened, becoming awkward. Beverly broke it first. 'Goodbye Julian.' Her voice was low. 'Goodbye Beverly', similarly his voice was hoarse with emotion. 'Crusher to Enterprise. One to beam up. Direct to my quarters please Chief.' She regarded him one last time.

'Energize.' The confinement beam enveloped her, and in five seconds all that was left of her was memories.

* * *

><p>'Ensign, set a course for Qualor II, Warp 8', at Will's questioning glance, 'We've been given discretionary use of full warp capability for this mission.' He turned back. 'Engage.'<p>

The Enterprise leapt forward, seeming to stretch into the distance, as the full power of her mighty engines thrust her into warp. Observing from Ten-Forward, Guinan saw the, by now familiar, sight of the stars stretching away behind the ship. Becoming ribbons of light, they seemed to separate into all the colours of the spectrum. Despite her great age, it was a sight she never tired of. Similarly Geordie LaForge, in Main Engineering, for once took a well-earned rest. He sat and gazed at the reactor, its familiar column of blue light pulsing fast as it propelled the ship at speeds once deemed impossible by the world's best scientists. He sighed in appreciation of its inventor's genius.

'Thank you, Zefram Cochrane', he breathed. Lost for a while in his own small world, he started as he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked up. Sonya Gomez was eyeing him in a rather odd manner. He cleared his throat nervously, recalling briefly the earlier incident in the Jeffries Tube. 'Yes Ensign, what is it?'

'It's nothing much sir. But I've noticed a slight variance in the phase of the warp field at the present power levels. It wasn't so noticeable at impulse, or even when we engaged low warp speeds. But with the higher tolerances required, the effect seems to be gaining strength. I think it may be the mid range phase adjuster. I might not have got it quite right..'

'Ahem.. You mean, I, might not have got it quite right', Geordie grinned at her as he amended her comment, 'You forget Ensign, I have absolutely no ego to bruise. Less than Data, and that isn't possible.'

'Er yes sir', she replied slowly, 'would you like me to go and adjust it? I can see you're busy here.' He eyed her dubiously, memories of the last encounter in that tube still too fresh in his mind to ignore. 'Hmmm. Nah, I'm not busy, let's go.' He stood, and before she could object, strode swiftly out of the compartment.

* * *

><p>The door slid open, and he paced grimly into the quarters he'd been assigned. This had not been one of his better ideas. He threw the bag he'd hurriedly packed into a corner. He had the strange feeling he would have little chance to unpack it. It had been a tough couple of days. He lay down on the bed and, closing his eyes, fell asleep almost immediately.<p>

* * *

><p>'Yeah, get us a couple of synthales, would you Ben?' Riker glanced up at the waiter, then stopped. Ben was usually a happy, smiling kind of person. Now however, the smile seemed almost forced. He thought he knew the problem. Kicking a chair towards the young waiter 'On second thought, sit down, take the weight off', Ben pulled up a chair and sat opposite him, 'Now what's wrong? And don't say nothing.' Ben regarded him slowly. He knew, from the very fact of the question, that Riker already knew the answer. He sighed.<p>

'It's Ensign Gomez', Geordie blinked, '_Uh, oh_'. Ben continued, 'You know she..'

'No, the real problem', Riker cut in, 'You've had women trouble before, this is something else. Now talk!' Ben gave up, 'All right, it's this mission. Maybe you don't notice. You signed up for this, I didn't. The Starfleet personnel are so keyed up lately, it's obviously something big. I'm not Starfleet, I'm civilian. I don't want to die. I'm too young!' He grinned feebly at Will, attempting to regain some of his usual bravado. He failed.

Riker breathed out slowly. He had known something like this was brewing. The signs were there for anyone to see. You didn't have to be Betazoid to know that there was a bad atmosphere around lately. The thought brought him to a stop with a thump. He stood up, giving Ben a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

'Don't worry, we'll be all right, you have my personal guarantee of that', to LaForge, 'Sorry Geordie, duty calls. I'll have to take a rain-check on that drink.' He left the two men talking as he left Ten-Forward, walking swiftly to the nearest turbo-lift. The door slid open and he entered, commanding, 'Deck Eight.' He stood and waited as he sped to his destination. As an afterthought he tapped his communicator. 'Riker to Troi. Deanna, we may have a problem. I'm on my way to the Captain's quarters. Please join me there.' The reply came a second before he spoke again. 'Riker out'.

He waited patiently for the lift to stop. Buried in his own thoughts, he barely noticed the entrance and egress of other members of the crew. He acknowledged their nods in his direction on the fringes of his own private world. After what seemed like an eternity the lift stopped and the doors slid open. He almost missed the opportunity, then, at the last second, gathered his wits and dived out into the corridor.

He stopped. Deanna Troi was stood in the corridor, arms folded across her chest, evidently waiting for him. He approached her warily, all too aware that not only was she aware that he was worried, but she was probably already aware of the reason. The job of Ship's Counsellor meant that very little was a secret from her. Not for long anyway. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, then motioned towards Picard's quarters, indicating that she should precede him. She smiled, and turned as he followed her down the corridor.

They stopped outside the door to Picard's quarters. They waited. Troi regarded Will curiously. He seemed unaccountably lost. She coughed. He looked at her bemused. 'Your call Will, do we go in?' He sighed, shook his head and pressed the actuator of the courtesy panel. The response was not long in coming. 'Come!'

The door slid open obediently as they stepped towards it. Will stepped into the doorway and stopped. Picard was not alone. Beverly Crusher was sat across the table that Picard was seated at. They were obviously engaged in eating their evening meal together. Will became suddenly unsure of his ground. 'Oh, er, I'm sorry sir. I can come back again some oth..'

'Will!' Deanna was exasperated now, 'What is wrong with you?' Picard stepped in, 'Perhaps you would both like to sit down? Then tell me what I can do for you.'

Will took a large intake of breath, breathed out sharply. Then sat slowly on the remaining empty chair, Deanna having already seated herself opposite him. 'I think we may have overlooked a potential problem. I have just been talking to Ben in Ten-Forward. It sounds very much as if the civilian population of the Enterprise is going to become very uneasy in the near future.' He went on to relate the conversation in detail, taking several minutes, finally concluding quietly,

'.. So it looks as if the crew, who are trained to deal with this kind of situation, are coping quite well. The problem is that there are elements of the civilian populace, who have not been trained to deal with it, who, to steal Ben's phrase 'did not sign up for this'. We may be, for the first time, being asked to justify the Starfleet policy of allowing families on board deep space vessels, to the detriment of the very people the policy is supposed to benefit.

But this is all from a very limited perspective. I don't have any real evidence that this is an endemic ship-wide condition. Perhaps Deanna..?' He turned to her for an opinion. She clasped her hands together, leaning forward, in the manner that had become habit to her. Clearing her throat, she began, 'Captain, firstly, I must say that this is the first I have heard of this specific problem. I can't say I'm surprised however. I have been feeling a strange preoccupation pervading the ship for the last few days now, but I was unable to discover the source. Commander Riker's information provides that source. The question remains what to do about it?

There seem to be two main options. Firstly, address the problem by briefing the entire ship on the plan for the forthcoming events. This could, if feelings are running as high as I suspect, cause either a riot or a panic. Neither of which, with the best will in the world, Worf's teams are prepared or trained to deal with. Secondly, we can brief the crew, and leave it to them as to whether their families remain or disembark en route to Qualor II. Obviously, in situations like Ben's we would have to brief the individuals, as they have no family aboard.

A tough choice. On balance I recommend the latter.'

Picard pursed his lips, and regarded the pair of them thoughtfully. Long an opponent of the policy in question, he had privately held the fear of just such a circumstance occurring. Now the beast was awake and growling for attention. He knew that a decision had to be made. Would the crew operate efficiently if they were worried for loved ones? Conversely, would they take comfort in their proximity? Making his decision, he nodded.

'Thank you both for bringing this to my attention. I accept your recommendations unquestioningly. I fully concur that the civilian population should be informed of the situation, and of the inherent dangers. I also agree that it is not our place to advise them, but that of their serving family member, or members. Counsellor, I would like you to advise all non-Starfleet personnel without a family member aboard of the situation, and keep me posted as to opinions. Will, your job will be to brief the serving personnel, and obtain a full manifest of those whose relatives wish to disembark. We were able to borrow the Ganges from DS9, and would therefore be able to transport a limited number of people by shuttle and runabout, without significantly affecting our timetable. Obviously if large numbers of people are involved, we will have to put in to Starbase for disembarkation of those who wish to do so. Prepare a contingency plan should this become necessary, and liaise with Counsellor Troi. That's all.'

He smiled, 'Now would either of you like some supper? Beverly and I were just about to eat. Some split pea soup to start?' Riker grinned, 'A very kind offer sir, but I must decline. A certain ensign would be most put out.' He stole a glance at Deanna. She had a huge grin plastered over her face, and he realized that once again the ship's grapevine was operating at its usual efficiency. Beverly however wasn't quite so subtle. 'Still chasing Tess Allenby, Will? I would have thought she was a bit young for you. I mean, there must be at least ten years between the two of you..' Her voice tailed off as she suddenly found two pairs of amused, and one pair of mildly bemused, eyes regarding her. The old phrase about people in glasshouses suddenly found its way into her thoughts. She coughed, and abruptly changed the subject.

'How about you Deanna?' With difficulty Deanna stifled an almost overpowering urge to giggle. 'Um, no, thank you. Worf has promised to show me some of the sights of Qo'nos. On the holodeck that is. In fact I'm a little late. So if you'll excuse me?' She stood, and once Riker had made his apologies, they left, sharing an amused snigger at the hole Beverly had managed to dig for herself.

* * *

><p>'Geordie?' LaForge groaned. He liked Data, he really did. Honest. His timing, however, was one aspect of Data, which really was beginning to get on his nerves. Here he was, in Ten-Forward, off shift. He had just left Ben, who was in a decidedly better frame of mind than when Will Riker had left. Lieutenant Richards, from Stellar Cartography, had a lot to do with that. Now he had just managed to psyche himself up to, yet again, ask Christie Henshaw out on a date when Data's famous lack of finesse had reared its ugly head. He closed his eyes for several seconds, however on opening them again he was disappointed. Nothing had changed. Data was still there, regarding him in his usual bemused fashion.<p>

'Hi, Data!' The android beamed back at him, totally unaware of any sign of distress in his friend. 'Geordie, Commander Riker, and the others asked me to find out if you wanted to join us for our regular poker game tonight?' He sighed. Well, Christie didn't seem that interested anyway. Why not?

'Yeah, sure Data, lead the way!' Data regarded him. 'Why, have you forgotten it?'

LaForge scrutinized Data's face carefully, suspecting the trial of yet another humour subroutine. But, as usual, the face that regarded him was completely guileless. He smiled, shook his head, and walked towards the door. Data still somewhat confused, followed.

* * *

><p>He stepped through the door into his quarters, deep in thought. So engrossed in his introspection that he barely realized that anything was different. He crossed to his bedside, throwing contents into the bag. No tidy packing this time. He was acutely aware of the time constraints he was working within, and that any delay.. He stopped. 'Julian, what's wrong? Where are you going?'<p>

Dammit! Less than a second before everything had seemed clear. He had decided to go. Had even got Kira's permission, citing the perfectly reasonable argument that the front-line defence was where the surgeons were most likely to be of best use. He could be near her. They could work together, talk together. Be together.

Now.. He hated new variables. They confused things. Ezri was a new variable. But, did he hate her? No. He shook his head irritably. He had totally forgotten the one person who knew him better than anyone else on the station, possibly the quadrant. His best, closest friend. Ezri Dax. He swore quietly under his breath. Then slowly the fog receded.

She regarded him with concern. This was not the dashing, happy, fun-loving doctor that she had come to know and, yes, to love. Not that she would ever have admitted it, least of all to him. This figure had a solid serious set to his jaw. The grim expression seemed to her, totally alien. He spoke, 'Ezri, I..' She stood and touched her finger to his lips.

'I know', she breathed, turning away quickly, 'let's get you packed.' Turning away before he could see the pain in her eyes. He grabbed her arm, and pulled her around, and on impulse kissed her full on the mouth. No questions were asked. They both knew they might never see each other again. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder, whispered 'Goodbye Ezri', and walked out.

On his way to the transporter pad he met Kira and Odo. They stopped speaking as he approached and turned towards him. 'Good luck Julian.' She regarded him slowly. This was a new Julian. 'Thank you Colonel, and to you.'

'I have never understood the human concept of luck. I do however, understand the concept of common-sense', Odo smiled, 'Keep your head down Doctor.' 'You too Odo', Bashir smiled grimly in response.

At the pad he was surprised to find it deserted save one. Chief of Operations, Miles O'Brien. He glanced up from the console as Julian entered. Stopping what he was doing, he stepped around the console, and shook Bashir's hand. Bashir cleared his throat. 'Chief.. Miles.'

'Julian. Get back quick. You know how soon my racquetball game goes rusty.' Grim faced. 'Yes, of course.' He was turning away and had just stepped onto the pedestal when a thought struck.

'Miles, before I go, one last request..' O'Brien held up his hand. 'I'll take good care of her.' Bashir turned on the pedestal.

'Energize.'

* * *

><p>Beverly gasped. It couldn't be. But there he was, his back to her, calmly attempting to send not only Will Riker, but also Worf, Data, and Geordie, to the poorhouse. Judging by Worf's expression, he was not being entirely unsuccessful either.<p>

'Julian?' He spun round, 'Beverly', he turned back to the table, 'er, call', and pushed all his chips to the centre. The others folded swiftly. 'Thank you for a most invigorating game. But I think now would be a good time to bow out gracefully.' He gathered his mountain of credits, and left the room. Behind him he heard the door slide open and a voice call after him. He stopped. The footsteps approached. He felt her presence behind him. Yet fear prevented him from turning. He waited. She spoke.

'Why?' Confused, he did turn. The question '_Why what?_' Rose to his lips, but died, as he realized that they both knew what she meant. And that meant she knew the answer before the question was even broached. 'I need to be here.'

'Why?' He grew angry, 'Do I have to spell it out for you?' He groaned, 'O.K. here goes,

One, the coming conflict will cause casualties. I am a doctor, and the best place for me to be is on hand to help deal with those casualties. The medical staff on this ship is fine for normal circumstances, but you tell me, in an emergency can you really cope comfortably?

No! The hell you can!

Two, I am a spare part on DS9. They need me for the odd illness, and occasional sprain, nothing more.

Three, I need the exp...'

'Julian, you were in the thick of the Dominion War, experience is one thing you do _not_ need… now… the _real_ reason', spoken quietly. He looked up into her eyes, and finally admitted it, to her and himself. 'I needed to be with you.' The reaction was not what he expected. She pulled back slightly. 'We need to talk!' She turned away, and beckoned him to follow. Confused, he did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

_'Enterprise, we..der..tack. We require urg..sistance. They came.. nowhere. 'trolling.. Mutara Nebula. Shields.. gone… More pass and...'_ Picard reached out to stop playback of the fragmented recording. He glanced round the table at the familiar ring of faces and their expected expressions. Worf, blood lust high, Klingon pride even now baying for vengeance. Riker, face stern, since the attack on the Hood.. Picard aware suddenly that only Deanna knew what had really happened back there. Deanna herself, grief-stricken for the pointless loss of life, as was Crusher. LaForge, simply angry.

He turned to the only member of his staff that he knew could be relied on for total objectivity. Even under extreme duress he knew he could rely on Data's objec.. He stopped.

'Commander?' He waited. '_Why?_' the voice grated suddenly. The tone like two slabs of granite scraped over one another. They all stopped and stared at Data. Geordie stepped around the table. 'Data? Are you O.K.?'

The android shook his head, 'I am sorry. I was experimenting earlier with a variant of the emotion chip Dr. Soong created for me. The experiment was unsuccessful, and I subsequently removed the component. However, it would appear that I need to perform a self-diagnostic to purge my systems of any random data remaining.

The ship', he continued unabated, 'was the U.S.S. Intrepid, Excelsior class, Starfleet registry, NCC-''

'38907. Q'utvatlth!' Worf exploded, 'They will suffer for this dishonourable act!'

'Mr. Worf', Picard broke icily into the Klingon's vehement rhetoric. Worf settled down still breathing heavily, 'Now, I understand that hearing of the destruction of the ship which rescued you, your parents, and your comrades from the Khitomer outpost is hard to bear. But please allow Commander Data to continue', this last in words of granite, brooked no argument. He turned, at a nod of agreement from Worf, 'Data please continue', and, after eyeing Worf somewhat warily, Data completed his briefing.

Will Riker spoke first, 'Firstly, Worf, my condolences', he cleared his throat, 'Excelsior class. They didn't have a chance. The Hood got lucky is why Captain DeSoto is still around. But the big question is why? Not, why attack in that manner? But why at all? What purpose did it serve? What did it prove?' A thought struck him. He turned to Data, continuing, 'Or, should we be asking, what are they short of? What did the Intrepid have that they wanted, needed even? Data do we have a inventory of material that should have survived the attack, but didn't?'

Data scanned his memory banks. Soon the answer was forthcoming. 'The entire ship is open to space, due to explosive decompression. But Main Engineering and Photon Torpedo Tubes are virtually undamaged. Yet no torpedoes are aboard and there is a discrepancy between the amount of dilithium in the articulation chamber, and that remaining in the stores. In short a quantity of dilithium and photon torpedoes are missing.'

'Any way to tell how much of each?'

'I could attempt to recreate their combat log. See how many torpedoes they fired. Could be they exhausted their supplies in desperation.' LaForge paused, 'Or they may never have got a shot off. The Cardassians may have got a full load off them.' Deanna spoke, 'Excuse me. This may sound a little obvious, but are we sure the rogue Galaxy did this? Admittedly, it fits the pattern, but, isn't that the point, aren't we fitting it all together because we want it to be so?' She turned to Picard.

'A valid point Counsellor, however. Computer, replay time index 223.6 to 384.2'

_'Sir, ship decloaking off the port beam.'_

_'Shields up! Red Alert! Helm, come about half-impulse. Tactical, what is she?'_

_A bewildered voice replied, 'Galaxy class sir! Sir she's firing!'_

'Computer, cease playback', Picard glanced around the table, 'Suggestions?'

LaForge requested, and got, permission to start work on the Intrepid's log. Data left with him to assist. Beverly left to check on the readiness of her medical staff. Despite her earlier comments to him on the subject, she suddenly felt glad of Bashir's presence on board. She had the nasty feeling that they may both soon have their hands full. Very full.

Riker groaned and looked across the table to where Deanna was seated. Shocked. Despite her years of Starfleet service, she was basically, as they all were, peace loving. It was totally beyond her comprehension that anyone could attack without provocation, or as brutally as they had just witnessed. Picard broke the uneasy silence.

'Counsellor', he spoke gently, but firmly, 'we need your professional assessment.' At his words, she seemed to break out of whatever trance she was in. 'Yes... yes. I think this new attack shows the growing confidence of the Cardassians. As you probably noticed, the attack on the Hood was not followed up. They broke cover, attacked, and then let their prey slip away. Alright, so they were caught by surprise. They were not operational and it showed. But this attack was on an Excelsior class starship, the same class as the Hood, and it was followed up. Viciously. There was no need...'

'Agreed Counsellor', Picard broke in abruptly, 'Mr. Worf, what is your assessment?'

'Sir, I agree with the Counsellor, in that the Cardassians latest attack shows that they have shaken whatever problems they experienced during the Hood incident out of their systems. I now believe that we are facing, not as I previously stated, simply a caretaker crew. Their job being to get the Galaxy home as fast as possible.

I suspect that the ship is under the command of at least one Gul, one of which is undoubtedly Evek. As to the other...'

'Hold on Worf', Riker interrupted, 'why at least one Gul? That's not standard Cardassian policy is it?' Worf bristled at the interruption. 'Sir, I say at least one Gul for several reasons. First of all, this new attack shows a marked change of policy in itself. Cardassians are very single minded. They believe that the best way to destroy a plan is to change it. For a single Gul to suddenly decide to alter his entire strategy midway through implementation would be unheard of. Therefore there must be another Gul present tugging at the reins. They could be in subspace contact, but that would be very risky. Cardassians hate risks.

Obviously one of the Guls is Evek. This project is his, at least that's what we think at present. Evek is one of the more brute-force Guls. I think at present that his opinion is holding sway in the argument.'

Picard held up his hand. Worf was silent. Picard steeped his hands, lowering his chin to touch his fingertips. He thought carefully about what Worf had said. It made sense. This whole operation was a marked departure from normal Cardassian operations. More departures were to be expected. But who was in overall command? He looked up at Will Riker.

'Number One? Any suggestions as to the other Gul?' Riker looked back thoughtfully. He noted before replying that there was no longer any question as to the presence of two Guls. Ah well. Worf had made a good argument, and Will was never slow to admit fault.

'Macet. Yes, I know all about the much-publicised disgrace of the esteemed commander of the Second Order. But isn't that exactly the point? I've been thinking about that and it irritates me. The Cardassians have never liked to wash their dirty linen in public. Yet Kira Nerys was the only one on DS9 who didn't know about his disgrace. Inefficiency on her part? I don't think so! To my mind, the only reason that she was unaware of it was because whatever sources she has within the Central Command didn't attach any importance to it and therefore didn't pass it on. And the only reason for them not to attach any importance to a piece of information of that nature, is because they didn't believe it!'

He slapped the table in front of him in triumph, continuing, 'Now you may call that tortuous train of logic the spawn of a diseased and devious mind', he grinned, 'and you'd be right! But the Cardassians are known for playing mind games. Think back to any time any of us has encountered Cardassians in a confrontation. Every time we have become the subjects of a Cardassian game of mental torture.

Also, Macet has long been an opponent of Evek's strong-arm tactics. Evek has very few enemies, and I feel that of them, only Macet has the power base and guts, to publicly disagree with him, and effect the kind of change in policy we have witnessed.'

'Agreed. So, we have Macet and Evek. Question. What will they do next?' He sat back to listen to his staff argue over their own personal viewpoints. Picard was a good captain. He always knew when to allow his crew their head. He interjected only when he felt they were wandering off the point, or that no progress was being made. But brainstorming sessions were what they were good at. So he accepted the headache that he knew from experience the current session would provoke. He suffered in silence.

* * *

><p>Bashir picked up the tricorder and studied the readout intently. Then grinned broadly at his patient. 'Well Ensign, it's not a virus', she breathed a sigh of relief. He continued, 'You're pregnant. Congratulations.<p>

Catch her someone!'

The subject of his comment slid gracefully to the floor, supported by Alyssa Ogawa. He grinned ruefully, and turned to Beverly Crusher. She grinned back, 'Well that was...'

'Brutal? Blunt?' He offered. 'Funny!' She sniggered, then burst out laughing, 'really Julian, we must work on your bedside manner. I don't know how your patients have survived on DS9 with you dispensing medicine with a sledgehammer like that!'

* * *

><p>'Data, pass me that tricorder, would you?' LaForge's voice was muffled. Data placed the tricorder in the hand that was groping out of the access panel beneath the central workstation in Main Engineering. The hand grasped it and withdrew into the space already occupied by a large proportion of the upper torso of the Enterprise Chief Engineer, and his current assistant, Ensign Sonya Gomez.<p>

Data was just musing in his mind that Geordie of late had been spending an inordinate amount of time in the ensign's company. He knew Geordie professed to be very wary of Gomez and her famous lack of co-ordination. Yet.. There was a muffled growl from the floor. He looked down, perplexed. 'Yes Geordie?'

'The other tricorder Data', came the pained reply, 'this one is set to scan for magnascopic interference. I need the one set for ODN power feeds.' The hand reappeared, dumping the offending item back onto the top of the worktop, scrabbling for its' counterpart. Data dutifully guided it over to the item required. Once grasped in the hand it once again disappeared from view. Data waited patiently, listening to the muffled grunts and curses as Geordie struggled in the confined space. His mind returned to the other matter, as a thought occurred to him. He voiced it.

'Geordie, did you suggest Ensign Gomez to assist you because she is female, and has a smaller torso than I in order to accommodate the confined space required, or..' The torso below convulsed, as its' owner mistakenly tried to sit up. There was a sharp bang, and a howl of pain, followed by a groan of anguish. The torso collapsed, then a few seconds later gradually, painfully extricated itself from the confinement. Data was interested to note the fresh red gash in the dark skin of the irate face that eventually appeared. Geordie was not pleased.

'Data, I am going to sickbay. Can you finish up here? I'm sure between you that you and Ensign Gomez can sort out that maze back there. Back in a minute.' He walked away, turning left down the corridor to the nearest turbo-lift.

He staggered into sickbay, by now his head thumping. Quick to notice the new arrival, both Crusher and Bashir rushed to his aid. He collapsed into their arms and allowed himself to be dragged over a nearby couch.

'What on earth happened?' Inquired a concerned Beverly. As she asked, she passed a probe over the gash, and studied the readout of her tricorder with concern. 'Data happened...' Groaning, he filled in the remaining details for her. She struggled valiantly with her face, then sniggered, snorted, then howled. Bashir was most amused, 'And you call my bedside manner lacking! Come on Commander, let's get a look at that nasty gash, and rescue you from the clutches of this nasty doctor!' He turned away so that neither saw the broad grin that threatened to split his face in half. He turned back, hypospray at the ready,

'Now, hold still.'

* * *

><p>The atmosphere was relaxed and confident on the bridge. Both Macet and Evek were deep in 'discussion' in the Captain's Ready Room. The sounds of that discussion carrying well out of the room and across the far side of the bridge. Terek, on the helm, looked across to his counterpart on Ops. Seetel glanced across at him and smiled shyly. He winked. Unusually for a Cardassian, Terek had a well-developed sense of humour, which had made him a very popular member of this crew.<p>

'Seems like our leaders are having a difference of opinion', he murmured amused. His amusement was heightened at the sound of a large crash from the closed door. 'Hey Seetel, what are you doing later?' She regarded him curiously replying, 'Nothing. Why?' he grinned, 'You'll see.'

* * *

><p>'Dammit Evek, this is stupidity in the extreme! To risk the whole operation in a pointless exchange was both foolhardy and reckless!' Macet was furious. He held a padd in his hand, and slammed it down on the desk in front of him for emphasis. The pompous arrogance of Evek was really beginning to annoy him. The Gul was sat leaning back in the armchair behind the desk, turned to one side, his left boot perched on the edge of the desk. He jerked forward as the boot was swept off the desk, then growled an angry response.<p>

'You are soft Macet! Too many years in that soft office on Terek Nor. You should have been in the front line, like me! A few years in the thick of the fight against those pathetic Bajoran dissidents would have made you a real Cardassian. There were many..'

Macet had turned away in disgust, to face the window. At Evek's taunts he whirled, and grasped at the padd on the desk. Thrusting it under the Gul's nose he gripped his throat with his free hand. Despite Evek's greater strength, he was unable to break the grip as Macet spat his angry reply,

'Yes Evek, you are right! If I had been in the front line then I would have become just like you. And Cardassia can think itself very lucky that there are still some of us left. Able to think with our heads, not our fists! If we continue to attack every target that strays into our sights, what do you think will happen, eh?' He loosened his grip enough for Evek to croak a reply, 'We would show the Quadrant that the Cardassian military are a match for anything the Federation can throw at us!'

He found himself thrust back into the chair as Macet explosively released his grip. His eyes burned with the fire of a long held deep hatred for the other. He rubbed his throat, sore from the fierce grip of the angry Gul. Macet swore his reply, 'You fool Evek! How long do you think our supplies would last? How long until we run out of food, munitions, deuterium, and dilithium? We cannot trust to luck that we can continue to attack targets with impunity. Sooner or later the Federation will tire of chasing us around the sector. And they will form a taskforce. Include the Klingons - they are not fools, they must know by now where our cloak came from! - who will aid them in our detection. And we will be caught and killed!

You know as well as I that this is a black operation. If we are caught the Central Command will deny all knowledge. We will be sacrificed. Cardassia cannot afford to become embroiled in another conflict with the Federation. Rather than that we will be declared renegades, to be killed on sight. To preserve the Treaty we will be allowed to die.

More than that. Think you fool! Every time we attack, we disclose our location. Too often and our enemies will be able to detect a pattern. We slow down our progress home. The sooner we cross the border into Cardassian territory, the greater our chance of success. The less time the Federation will have to prepare a blockade to prevent our crossing. Even someone of your limited intellect can see that!'

Grudgingly, Evek admitted that Macet had a point. Even a thug like Evek occasionally saw sense, 'Very well Macet. We will play this your way. For now..' He left the unspoken implication hang in the air as he stood and stormed from the room. Macet turned back to the window. He gazed out at the stars. His thoughts turned to his son, his seventh birthday only weeks away. He had hoped to be present for once. Too many times his duties had prevented him from enjoying his family. His mind returned to the present, and he grinned mirthlessly at the memory of Evek's throat in his grip.

* * *

><p>'Sir, incoming message from the transport ship, Itel.'<p>

Picard half turned in his chair, momentarily caught off-guard. He was expecting no communication. He turned back to face the main viewscreen, commanding, 'Onscreen.'

The image was of a Bolian captain. His blue skinned visage was jovial as was common with members of his race. Essentially a peace loving race, the Bolians had long been allies of the Federation. The barber on the flagship, Picard reflected suppressing a smile - Mr. Mott, the barber, a well known and popular character aboard ship - was a Bolian. Yet on closer inspection Picard could detect something not quite right. A slight tension in the jaw. Troi leaned in, and spoke quietly into his left ear, 'He's worried sir.'

'Yes, thank you Counsellor', he left the '_I know_', unspoken.

'Captain Picard', the image spoke, 'Greetings. I am Captain Portth, of the Itel. Starfleet Command informs me you have some passengers for me.' He waited expectantly. Bemused, Picard glanced at Riker. He shrugged, as much in the dark as his captain. Assuming, however, that a response was required other than the noncommittal physical, he put his brain into gear, and found the answer.

'The civilians sir. If you recall, I dispatched a manifest of those wishing to disembark at a Starbase, rather than stay onboard, to Starfleet three hours ago. Presumably, this is their response. They obviously felt that this option would be preferable to diverting us to Starbase, thus delaying our search. The lack of use of a subspace message to advise us could simply be to protect our location. Even if the message couldn't be read, its' destination could.' He swung in the console to his right, and tapped in his request, 'Yes. Yorkshire class. The Itel has accommodations for four hundred. Our manifest comprised five hundred. It'll be a squeeze, but with a bit of double-bunking - it's preferable to them staying on board.'

'Sir, they are accompanied by the Endeavor. She is assigned as escort. Apparently, Starfleet are taking the risk to unarmed ships in the sector seriously.'

'_Very seriously_', the thought rose to all their minds. The Endeavor was Nebula class, not a ship to be pulled off normal duties lightly. Picard cleared his throat, aware that Portth was patiently, still awaiting a response.

'Captain Portth. Please forgive the delay. As you are no doubt aware, in the interests of security, Starfleet declined to use subspace to advise us of your arrival. However, we are now ready to begin transport. My thanks for your assistance. Enterprise out.' He tapped his comm. badge, 'Picard to all transporters, begin transport. Cargo transporters also, let's complete this quickly. Counsellor, would you supervise the procedure, and advise me upon completion?'

'Aye sir', Troi uncrossed her legs, and stood. Then turned and walked quickly up the ramp to her left, entering the turbo-lift and disappeared from sight. Riker watched her leave, unaccountably wistful. He dragged his attention back to the action. Picard turned to Data on Ops. His mind now clearly focused on the vulnerability of the three vessels. If the rogue should blunder into them in the midst of the transport, then it could prove disastrous.

'Mr. Data, any contacts on long-range sensors?' The android's fingers flew over the panels in front of him. Reconfiguring the layout from its present function of monitoring the passage of the transported civilians. He scanned the readouts thus produced, then responded, 'Nothing within three light years sir. The Charleston, Potemkin and Merrimac are engaged in what appear to be search operations between four and seven light-years distant.'

Worf spoke gruffly, 'It appears that they are trying to attract attention to their presence. It was very near here that the Intrepid was attacked. They seem to be trying to shepherd their quarry in our direction. It will not work. If the Intrepid was unable to detect the rogue, then they will not.'

'The Lieutenant Commander is correct sir. There is every reason to assume that the Cardassians will simply sit quietly, and allow the searchers to pass them by, and then head off in an entirely new, and unexpected direction.'

'Thank you Mr. Data. I want you and Mr. Worf to prepare a list of the most likely courses of action for the Cardassians. Brief me on the one which you decide they will take at', he deliberated. How much time did he have? '1600 hours.'

'Aye sir', both officers spoke in unison. They left the bridge together, their deputies slipping smoothly into the positions left vacant by their absence. As he contemplated the bridge in front of him Picard became aware of the gaze of his first officer, regarding him curiously. He turned expectantly, 'Yes, Number One.'

'Captain. Worf, and Data? They don't exac..' Picard grinned and Riker realized his mistake. He knew that thrusting Data and Worf together would cause a conflict of opinions. That was what he wanted. If those two could agree on a briefing, then the result could pretty much be accepted as fact. Riker acknowledged the insight of the manoeuvre, and chuckled quietly. Oh to be a fly on that wall.

* * *

><p>The young ensign passing the door at the rear of the bridge winced. A student of the Klingon culture, she was fluent in Hol. But that which was emanating, only slightly muffled from the Observation Lounge was not in any dictionary she had ever read. Only once, on leave in a bar on Qo'nos, had she ever heard <em>that<em> word uttered to another being. Never to a superior officer. As she turned, she saw Will Riker glancing back in her direction. Evidently, he too had heard the comment. She blushed, embarrassed and he grinned, turning back to examine his console.

'Something amuses you Number One', Picard inquired wryly. Riker simply inclined his head toward the right rear of the bridge. No other reply was required. The ghost of a smile passed over Picard's lips as replied, 'Yes, it does seem to be working well, doesn't it?' Not trusting himself to meet his captain's eyes, Riker simply nodded, biting his lip, attention glued fiercely to his padd.

The intercom beeped for their attention. Picard raised his head 'Troi to Captain Picard. Transport complete.' Picard responded. 'Excellent. Mr. Samuels, signal the Itel and the Endeavor that we are prepared to move off. Helm, set course for the rendezvous with the Klingons, Warp Six.' He sat back, relaxed in his chair. 'Engage.'

* * *

><p>The phalanx of battle cruisers hung in space. Malevolent, forbidding. Viewing the sight from the comfort of Ten-Forward, on one of his all too rare visits, Picard sighed. Grateful for the actions of the second Enterprise' crew all those years before, preventing the assassination of the daughter of the late Chancellor Gorkon. Curiously, he considered briefly that it had been one of the very few times when a female had been allowed to hold office in the High Council, and the only time that a woman had been Chancellor. For that act had helped pave the way to the détente which the Federation and the Klingon Empire now enjoyed. Not for the first time he realized that, but for those actions, he might now have a very different task. Not to mention a different chief of security. He smiled at the thought, redirecting his gaze to his left, where a family reunion was taking place. At typical, Klingon, high volume.<p>

'Brother!' boomed the leather and metal clad behemoth, 'It is good to see you', his face split in a wide toothy grin. He slapped Worf simultaneously on both shoulders. Worf returned the greeting, after which the two rubbed their sore spots and, arms around each other's shoulders, made their way boisterously to a table. A waiter nervously approached. Worf regarded him benevolently, 'Bregit lung, pipius claw, gagh, heart of targ, rokeg blood pie', the waiter responded swiftly, 'Dessert?' 'Tarvokian pound cake', 'and to drink?'

Worf grinned, 'Warnog, and chech'tluth!' Even Kurn eyed him dubiously at that. Either beverage was considered potent, even to a Klingon. In combination together, they could only be described as.. explosive. Not being brave enough to question an exuberant Klingon, the waiter backed off, to collect the order. Worf regarded his younger brother proudly.

'So, tell me, how are things in the Empire? I see from our last meeting that Martok is busy rewriting history again. He _seems_ to be correcting… inaccuracies.. from Gowron's Chancellorship. Despite our help, yours and mine, against the Duras family, he always denied any hint of outside assistance..' Kurn interrupted, 'That is of no matter brother. He restored our family name. We have our honour. Lursa and B'Etor are dead, Duras' son is... no longer a threat. What more do we need?' At this point the waiter returned, and Worf was spared answering as they both set to devouring the stack of plates in front of them. For several minutes the silence was only broken by the sounds of their feeding. Eventually, their labours completed, they collapsed in their chairs. Kurn belched contentedly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

'I'm glad that our cuisine is to your liking', the voice just behind him startled Worf, galvanizing him into action. 'Ah, Deanna, may I, er..' he floundered out of his depth. Kurn observed the interaction, amused. He spoke. 'Counsellor Troi, I presume', he responded, overtly becoming excessively charming at his brother's expense, 'Please, sit. Join us', Troi sat, accepting the offer, 'Excuse my brother's actions. He is not as accomplished a diplomat as I. I am Kurn, Worf's younger brother. He has told me much about you!'

Deanna turned to Worf. The look of extreme panic on his face made her look away swiftly. His pride would be irrevocably harmed if she burst out laughing now. And yet, she felt unable, unwilling to allow this wonderful opportunity to pass unanswered. 'Really?' She responded, leaning forward conspiratorially, 'such as..?' Worf could stand no more.

'Enough!' He thundered, 'Kurn be silent, please', the tone of the final word almost begging. In response Kurn threw back his head and bellowed. A huge belly laugh erupted, seemingly all the way from his boots. Worf regarded them both darkly from beneath his huge brow. Then slowly, his eyes twinkling, the corners of his mouth curled up. Soon they were all sharing the joke, laughing until their sides ached.

'Kurn, you will pay for this', Worf promised darkly, 'One day you will wish to take a mate, and I will remind you of this day. In her presence, of course.' At this point Captain Picard, with Riker following hard on his heels joined them. The sounds of a party had not gone unnoticed, and Riker was never one to miss a party.

'Meeting the in-laws, Deanna?' He inquired sweetly. The scene froze, his reply becoming the attention, seemingly not too friendly of three individuals. Two of them large Klingon males he noted belatedly. Yet Will felt more threatened by the third, the Betazoid female. He cleared his throat nervously, 'Just joking', he offered lamely. They responded, by once again bursting into laughter. Riker gave in and joined them. Picard waited patiently for them to end. Then gave his greeting.

'Captain', responded Kurn, 'It is once again an honour to serve with you. My forces are at your disposal. What do you need of us?' Direct, typically Klingon. Picard responded in kind, 'We need your expertise in locating a particular cloaked ship', 'The rogue Galaxy', growled Kurn. Picard nodded, 'Yes. In addition, we may require your assistance in dispatching it, and any allies they may be able to call upon.'

'I believe that there is some question as to the origin of the cloaking device being used by the Cardassians. I have a theory about that', Kurn offered, 'The Duras' '. Picard regarded him sceptically, 'With all due respect Kurn. The sons of Mogh are known for their hatred of the Duras family. I would need some kind of evidence to support that kind of supposition before I..'

'Agreed', cut in Kurn, 'our hatred of them is well known. Then here is your evidence. I discovered that, on my way here, a K'tinga class cruiser was lost in battle six weeks ago. But that the cloaking device onboard was missing after its recovery. The battle was in the Altair system. And one of the Duras was seen on Altair III less than two months ago. If they got hold of that cloak, they may have bargained with the Cardassians for a collaboration, to put them in command of the High Council after successful completion of the mission. And if that happened, they would agree an alliance against the Federation.

I don't need to tell you that with legitimate aid from the Cardassians, even the aid of my squadrons would not be able to restore Martok to power. The entire balance of power throughout this sector would be irrevocably altered!'

Picard grimaced, for he knew that Kurn was right. If he was correct that the Duras' family were behind the Cardassian acquisition of a cloaking device, then he was almost certainly right about the consequences of that action. And that didn't bear thinking about. But how to proceed. A memory triggered in his head, 'Lieutenant, did you and Mr. Data ever come to any agreement on that matter we discussed earlier? I know I gave you until 1600 hours, but now would be a good time.'

Worf coughed, considering. He tapped his communicator, 'Worf to Commander Data, please meet me in the Observation Lounge.' The reply was swift, 'Acknowledged. Data out.' He turned to the assembled company, 'Sir?' Picard replied, 'Thank you Mr. Worf.' He strode swiftly from the room closely followed by Riker, Kurn, Deanna and Worf. Turning into the turbo-lift he commanded, 'Main Bridge.' The doors closed swiftly, and they sped through the ten decks in a matter of seconds. They exited and crossed the back of the bridge, entering the Observation Lounge by the starboard doorway. The door closed behind them. Data joined them a few seconds later. He glanced at Worf questioningly.

'Captain Picard has asked that our briefing be brought forward Commander', explained the Klingon briefly. 'Ah', the android glanced around briefly. Then launched into the briefing which had been the subject of a long - and sometimes very heated - discussion between himself and the Enterprise' security chief. He punched up a display on the wall-mounted viewer, and then began describing in detail the location, timing, and nature of all confirmed contacts with the rogue ship. He described from this - his - their - opinion of the course taken by the Cardassians to achieve these aims. Next he moved on to the section Picard was most interested in - also the section which doubtless had been the source of the most disagreements. Extrapolation from the available data as to the Cardassians next move.

'.. It is our belief..', At the '_our_', Riker glanced at Worf glowering on the opposite side of the table, and just prevented himself from grinning, '.. that there are two main courses available to the Cardassians. Simply put, do they attack every vessel they encounter, slowing down their progress dramatically, using up supplies needlessly, when they know they could be caught at any time? Or do they make a run for the border? If we take the latter choice, then we know we shall capture them. They have to cross the border sometime, to get home. But that course of action is flawed.' He paused, and Worf took the opportunity to fill in the gap. 'Yes, if we are wrong, and they delay to make further attacks, then innocent people will die!'

Data regarded him curiously, unsure of the reason for the interruption. He continued uncertainly, 'Correct Commander. So, a third option has to be found. Initially, I was in favour of the second option, that of intercepting them as early as possible. However, the Commander pointed out - at great length..' Worf regarded him darkly, unsure if the android was attempting a subtle form of humour, at his expense, '.. that if we were wrong, the rogue vessel has similar capabilities to ourselves. It would be quite capable of outrunning us to the border, and escaping. We would then be obliged to cross into Cardassian space, in clear violation of the treaty, to attempt to apprehend them. Of course the Cardassian vessel would be cloaked, meaning that the Central Command could deny the existence of any ship, accusing the Federation of deliberately provoking them. They would scrap the treaty and we would become embroiled in a full-scale war. Of course that is worst-case scenario.' Data was known for being a master of understatement.

Picard coughed, 'Very well then Mr. Data. What do you suggest?' The android cleared the screen behind him. He brought up another schematic in order to illustrate the plan, which he and Worf had concocted between them. He tapped a control in the corner of the screen to animate the diagram. 'Here you can see we have plotted the locations of the encounters thus far. From these we have projected the most probable course for the Cardassians to have taken. We have made the assumption that as the senior Gul aboard - being in command of the Second Order - Gul Macet's orders will take precedence over those of Evek. This being the case we believe that the Cardassians will now change tack to move more swiftly towards the Cardassian border. However, we plan an entrapment manoeuvre. Although careful, Macet is still a Cardassian. The suggestion is that the Enterprise develop a reactor malfunction, not a serious one, simply enough to render us 'powerless'. Simulated failure of a main EPS power feed to the antimatter injectors would suffice. This incident would occur two and a half light years away from the Cardassians projected course. That is, here.'

He tapped the diagram, continuing, 'I believe, and Commander Worf concurs, that this would prove an irresistible target to a Cardassian. They would move to intercept us. To destroy the flagship of the Federation would serve two purposes. Firstly, to demonstrate the power of their new acquisition beyond all doubt. Secondly, eventually the Cardassians will wish to attack the Federation, using their newfound power. Removing the flagship would drastically weaken our defences in this sector, the Enterprise being the sector command ship in the event of conflict..' Here Picard threw a sharp glance at Data, surreptitiously indicating Kurn. Not to be fooled, Kurn responded, 'Do not worry Captain. The Commander has not disclosed any information that has not been well known to the High Council for the past three years.' Picard eyed his compatriot warily. He himself had only of this for two and a half years. The disclosure of a leak at a very high level was uncharacteristically careless of the normally scrupulously secretive Klingon captain.

He returned his attention to Data, who had resumed speaking, '.. Even if an attack was not made in this sector, the reshuffle of our forces would sow enough seeds of confusion for any attack to be made immeasurably easier to successfully conclude. So, the Cardassians attack. They will move close, to perform a classic coup-de-gras. At the point of closest contact, the trap will be sprung. Kurn's forces, cloaked in a globe of half a million kilometres diameter around will simultaneously decloak - you may recall a similar tactic was employed against us by the Romulans, with distressing success - and encircle both ships. I am aware that the Cardassians are probably under orders to resist capture at all costs. Nevertheless, it would be prudent to offer them the opportunity to surrender at this point. We would gain a fully functional Galaxy class ship at no cost to the Federation, and in terms of diplomacy, a massive bargaining chip with the Cardassians to be brought out in any future negotiations.

However, I concede that their surrender is unlikely, and would suggest that at the first signs of provocation that they be destroyed. A full-scale battle in Federation space would irrevocably harm relations between us. The Federation citizens in the demilitarised zone would instantly be in peril. Starfleet Command would probably deem that unwelcome.' At this point Picard stepped in. 'Thank you Mr. Data. Concise as always.' His wry smile fooled no one. Jean-Luc's hatred of bloodshed was well known. A hard decision was about to be made in that room. There was not a single person present whose breath had not unaccountably caught in their throats in anticipation of his next words. The two Klingons shared a glance. The chance to die in battle was the greatest desire of all Klingons, and Kurn could detect something close to envy in Worf's gaze. They both knew that the renegade would attempt to break out, and that Kurn was most likely to be in the thick of the fight. Not that there would be much of a battle in any event. Even a Galaxy class ship would be no match for a full squadron of twelve Vor'cha class attack cruisers. It would be short, but undoubtedly bloody.

'Make it so.' The sentence was spoken so softly as to be almost breathed out. Its effect however was to charge the atmosphere with an electricity that could be felt. Riker regarded Picard with sympathy. Better than any present, maybe even Deanna, he knew how much those words had hurt his captain. A Betazoid could detect only raw emotions. Yet Riker knew of the motivations for those feelings, and how much the pain would affect him, not now, or even in the near future. After Picard had experienced a variation of his life - thanks to the interference of the Q entity - he had begun to speak to Will about his life. As he had said, there were parts of his life that were untidy, loose ends. He had become more open, explaining the motivation that caused those ends to become loose. He had spoken of his dreams and wishes. He wanted nothing more than to explore the galaxy. He viewed the galaxy and all its wonders with the eyes of a marvelling child. But until after the battle he would be denied that view. When all was quiet and he was able to relax. And reflect on what he had done.

'Dismissed.' A very private man still, Jean-Luc was aware of the attention he was receiving. The command crew filed out, Riker hanging back in the rear. As the last left the room in front of him he made a decision. He stopped and turned. Picard was sat at the table, immobile. He glanced up, 'Something wrong Number One?' Will cleared his throat, 'It was unavoidable sir. There was nothing you could have done once the die was cast. We became prisoners of the web, the Cardassian spider drawing us in.' Picard smiled wryly, 'I thought I was the poet Will.' Riker grinned in response, 'I have my moments!' Jean-Luc shook his head in wonder, 'Thank you Will. You can go now, I'll be alright.' Reassured, Riker turned and stepped through the door to the bridge, at ease finally.

* * *

><p>Geordie regarded his glass of Altairian brandy glumly. Data's actions had not been particularly helpful. When he had returned to Main Engineering, it was to find Sonya Gomez absent. According to Data, shortly after his departure, she had finished the task they had begun, then suddenly excused herself and come here to Ten-Forward. Ignoring the android's puzzled protestations he had followed. He hadn't even been sure of his motives. Now he was. He liked her, a lot. As he entered the room he had scanned swiftly for her face, then spied it over in a corner. Grinning he had approached her. His progress halted with a jolt as Ben crossed his line of sight carrying two drinks to her table. Two drinks - not on a tray either - carried as if one was his. As if to confirm the supposition he swung his leg over a stool and sat at the table, sipping at one of the glasses, placing the other in front of Gomez. She smiled happily at him, then caught sight of Geordie over his shoulder.<p>

He grimaced sourly and abruptly changed direction, heading instead for one of the many stools lining the curved central bar. He had perched on one and ordered a brandy. Barely aware of the alert gaze of the bar's patron, Guinan, he had drained it in one then ordered another. This, his second now lay untouched on the bar in front of him as he contemplated his abysmal run of luck. To say it was inhuman was an understatement only Data should be capable of. He now became dimly aware of that gaze and raised his head in her direction, inquiring, 'Something I can do for you Guinan?' Her head tilted in his direction, as if the question - or rather its tone - were affirmation of his suspicions. 'Not really LaForge', she replied carefully, 'I rather suspected that the reverse may be true..' The sentence had a suspiciously unfinished air about it. And this was how Geordie regarded it. Suspiciously. He eyed her, responding sourly, 'I don't know what you mean!'

The slim shoulders shrugged, 'Suit yourself', and turned away, waiting expectantly. His voice continued, 'I mean, it's been four months now, and not a single lousy date. What is it with the women on this ship?' She grinned, her back still to him. As expected. She turned, the smile swiftly being wiped away. 'Why do you want a lousy date? I didn't think that was the aim!' He squinted in her direction, his brow furrowing in concentration. Dimly he ran through his comment and found the source of the alleged misunderstanding, and grinned wryly despite himself. 'Well you know me Guinan, any date right now would be an improvement!' He smirked finishing, 'Even a lousy one!' He laughed. 'Especially with Sonya Gomez?' Guinan was known for her lack of preamble in reaching the nub of a problem. Geordie scowled afresh, 'Hmmm!', he growled, 'Seems like Ben got there ahead of me!' Leaning forward conspiratorially Guinan whispered, 'But you didn't see Sonya's face when you turned away!' With that she answered the call of Will Riker who, coming off shift, had made a beeline for Ten-Forward.

Geordie's head snapped up. 'Hey what...? Oh never mind!' But the comment played on his mind. Another of Guinan's traits was that she loved sowing the seeds of mystery. A hint of the answer to a person's problems was all she would give. But her tips were never of negative value. All that was required was for him to correctly interpret the comment - and then make use of the information. Strangely it was the execution of the second stage that scared the hell out of him. Obviously Sonya's expression had shown something to Guinan. What? Well he knew it wasn't negatively charged in his direction. Positive then. She must have been disappointed. He snapped his fingers in triumph. Yes, that was it! He turned in the direction of her table. It was empty. He groaned, but he was in high spirits, for he knew now that there would be a next time and headed back to Engineering with a spring in his step.

'Mr. LaForge, are we ready?' Picard's voice broadcast through Geordie's communicator. He winced. The plan had been updated obviously. He was not supposed to enforce the blackout on-board for another sixteen minutes. Grimacing he tapped his communicator, replying cautiously, 'Give me another few minutes sir. I don't want to blow the entire system. I've got it jury-rigged as best I can, but I just wanted to give it another diagnostic..' Uncharacteristically Picard broke in, 'Do you think you will find anything Mr. LaForge?' The Enterprise chief engineer scratched his head. The reply, '_I already have, you never question my judgment!_' Came to mind, but he discarded it, opting for the safer, 'Er no, sir.' Picard was brusque in his response. 'Good, then please proceed. Picard out.' Geordie shared a glance with Barclay, stood next to him at the main display. Barclay seemed about to comment, but Geordie forestalled him, murmuring, 'I know Reg I don't like it either. It's not like the captain to question any of us. Something's wrong!'

* * *

><p>On the bridge the atmosphere was tense. Picard's comments had not gone unnoticed, nor too his demeanour. Troi glanced across behind him. As expected she met Riker's perplexed, somewhat concerned, gaze. Coughing gently she attracted his attention and Picard swivelled in his seat to meet her eyes. 'Yes Counsellor?' She faltered, 'Er Captain, has there been a change of plan?' He interrupted, 'No, why?' Once again his manner made her stumble and Will stepped in to rescue her. 'It's just that, er, you've never questioned Geordie, or any of us openly before. Also, we aren't due to go on silent running for another fifteen minutes yet.'<p>

Picard glanced round at him then replied, 'Would you join me in my Ready Room Number One? You too Counsellor.' He stood, striding swiftly to the door on their left. As he swept through the door it closed behind him. Riker shared a bemused, now openly worried expression with Deanna, then followed Picard ordering, 'Mr. Data, you have the bridge.' Data eyed him curiously, replying. 'Aye sir.' He stood and replaced Picard in the seat he had so recently vacated, tapping his security code and identity into the padd built in to the chair arm to his left. He eyed the door to the ready room curiously, then turned his attention to his duties.

* * *

><p>As Deanna and Will entered the ready room they were surprised. They had fully expected to find Picard at his desk, preparing to chew them out for questioning his orders in public. However, he was sat on his sofa along one wall of the room. He motioned for them to sit, and they did so, Deanna next to him on the sofa, while Will took a chair and swung it around, sitting on it in reverse fashion, his arms draped over the chair back. Jean-Luc seemed tired, and both felt they knew the reason. The price of being a private man, he very rarely took leave when it was available, preferring to bury himself in ship's business, or sit alone in his quarters. Deanna spoke first. 'Captain?' He looked at her blankly, 'When did you last take leave?' He regarded her puzzled. Riker chose to answer for him. 'I remember, it was when you visited your brother Robert, and his wife and son in La Barr. That was too long ago. I have a suggestion sir, if I may..' Picard turned towards him, remarking dryly, 'Yes, and the last time I took you up on one of your suggestions I ended up on Risa, got propositioned, embroiled in that Tox Uthat business and met Vash.'<p>

He paused and smiled. Riker returned the expression, 'You see, it wasn't all bad! And don't forget the..' They both spoke together. 'Horga'hn!' Picard actually laughed aloud at that, 'No, one mustn't forget that - I still haven't paid you back for that Will Riker!' Riker feigned hurt inquiring, 'What about when you let Data throw me in the brig? I mean, just because I was officially a renegade that was no reason to..' Picard broke in, 'Maybe not, but I did so enjoy it!' He was now being too jolly. Deanna put her hand on his arm. He looked over to her questioningly. Read her expression. Sighing heavily he pushed himself back into the sofa and crossed his arms. Then softly began to speak. 'Actually, it is Vash. If you remember the last time we saw her was just after that unfortunate business in Sherwood Forest. You may also recall that she very ill-advisedly accepted Q's offer of a partnership?' They nodded, waiting with dread for him to continue. The mention of Q was never an opening for good news.

'Well I decided to try and keep an eye on them. A bit difficult you may think given Q's powers, but not so. He couldn't very well travel in time, as Vash was always more interested in the here and now. So I just kept my ear to the ground for reports of unauthorized access being made to ancient ruins etc. This afternoon I received such a report. Two people were caught entering a tomb on Valkos III. In Valkosian culture they have defiled a grave. There is only one sentence for such a crime. They were to be put to death three weeks ago', he shuddered in revulsion resuming, 'The Valkosian system is very remote, which is why the news took so long to reach me. There was a man, approximately six feet tall, black hair, Q. He apparently escaped and saved himself. But the woman was executed, the five foot eight auburn-haired, woman.. Vash died on Valkos III, three weeks ago. And Q let her die.'

Riker swore quietly to himself. He had always thought of Q as an opportunistic devious individual. But never that cold-bloodedly callous. Belatedly he remembered that Q had always regarded the human species as substandard, and therefore had never really valued any of their lives. His mind traced back to when Q had forced their first encounter with the Borg, costing the lives of many crewmembers. He felt a flush of anger at the remembrance. Troi meanwhile had slid over to sit nearer Picard. Riker realizing that she would wish to be alone quietly stood, and let himself out of the room, allowing Deanna the freedom to work on the captain to get him to release his feelings. Knowing that only then would they get him back. Also that they had very little time to operate. True Deanna hated to work under pressure, but he hoped that this time she would accept that time was of the essence.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

Presently the door to the ready room slid open, and Riker's head snapped across. Only Troi emerged. His expression asked the question silently. She smiled, '_Relax Will_', and he breathed out slowly. Obviously the problem had been solved. As he glanced sideways at her he heard a second opening of the door and glanced slowly over. Thankfully it was Picard. He seemed his normal self, composed and in control of his emotions.

Riker stood and slipped out of the command chair, dropping into his usual chair, to the right. He smiled in greeting as Picard approached and dropped heavily into his chair. He crossed his legs purposefully and pursed his lips briefly in thought. Then decided, 'Bridge to Main Engineering.' The reply was swift in coming, 'Engineering, LaForge here!' He paused, 'Mr. LaForge, how long would you require for your diagnostic sweep?' It was LaForge's turn to pause, 'Er, give me ten minutes sir.' The response was swift 'You have them. Go to it Mr. LaForge.' The '_Thanks_' from LaForge was left unsaid. But understood all the same.

Picard turned to his right, 'Well Number One, what now?' Riker looked a bit nonplussed. He checked his panel then inquired, 'Anything on long-range sensors Data?' The android keyed the request into his controls before delivering a negative response. 'Worf?' Implying the same request. However Worf's reply was a little different. He looked momentarily puzzled, then commented, 'I am reading a subspace distortion approximately six point two light years away. It is not stationary however. It appears to be following a course approximate to the suggestion of the Cardassians' course', he ventured a suggestion, 'It could be a ship travelling under cloak.' Neither Riker nor Picard were pleased with this idea. Picard was first to react. He turned to the Tactical station at the rear. 'Hail the Heghta. Give Kurn the telemetry and ask for their opinion.' Worf nodded, entering the command sequence required. The response did not take long. 'Sir we are being hailed by the Heghta.' Picard turned forward commanding, 'on screen.' The blank screen filled with the scene aboard the bridge of the Klingon cruiser. Dark and forbidding. Clearly far more a combat vessel than the Enterprise. Not a single surface was superfluous to the function of battle. Dominating the centre was the command chair filled with the bulk of Kurn.

'Captain Picard', his voice grated, 'Congratulations. The prey is in sight. All that is required now is to bait the trap. Are you prepared?' Picard tapped his communicator, 'Bridge to Engineering..' Anticipating his request, LaForge's reply was swift almost - but not quite - cutting him off. 'Aye sir. Ready at your request Captain.' Picard nodded his agreement to Kurn. The screen darkened to black. 'Now Mr. LaForge, if you please.'

To an outside viewer, the view resembled the extinguishing of the lights on a Christmas tree. All around the ship lights and windows darkened. The ramscoops ceased their red glow, the warp nacelles lost their blue sheen as all matter/antimatter operations failed. The vessel took on a marked tilt as the inertial dampers were disengaged. To all intents and purposes the Enterprise was dead in space. Unable to move, powerless and defenceless. A perfect target for a renegade. Helpless and derelict. Hopefully. Around the Enterprise Kurn's squadron formed into a protective globe. Their forms steadied in position, then shimmered in space as their cloaks were engaged. Soon all that was left was the Enterprise. Aboard all ships the crews settled into their duty posts to await the arrival of the Cardassians.

'Five million kilometres..', intoned Worf, 'Four million.. Three million.. Two million.. Sir', a note of urgency crept into his voice, 'another vessel is entering the system. It is a Ferengi Marauder. Heading..', he growled in annoyance, 'This way!' Riker stroked his beard with one hand slowly, then groaned aloud, 'Oh no, not the Ferengi Salvage Code! Not again! Not now!' Jean-Luc sighed in exasperation querying, 'How long till the suspected vessel enters the trap?' Worf glanced at his readouts, responding, 'One minute twenty-five seconds sir.' Picard swallowed, 'And until the Ferengi are in range?' Worf scowled at his displays before replying, 'One minute, and twenty seconds sir!' Riker cursed, 'Damn, we're not going to make it!' Picard glanced at his first officer. He had the nasty feeling that Will was right. But they had to at least make the attempt. He made his decision. 'We wait.' Adding in his thoughts, 'I just hope Kurn makes the same choice!' Knowing that if the Klingon forces acted precipitously that all would be lost. He began to feel the tension growing in his neck and back.

The atmosphere charged once more the bridge waited with bated breath for the count being enunciated by Worf to reach zero. Finally, after what seemed eons it came, and with the pronouncement attention reverted to Picard. He said nothing, preferring to wait until the intentions of both Threat vessels were clear. They did not have long to wait. Data's urgent voice came almost synchronized with Worf's curse. 'Sir I am detecting transporter signatures from the Ferengi vessel. We are being boarded!' The intruder alert sounded as Riker swore vehemently commanding, 'Oh no we're not! Shields up, Red Alert! All hands to General Quarters!' Picard grimaced, inquiring, 'Mr. Worf dispatch a security detail to locate and detain any Ferengi who were able to board', as Worf complied he queried, 'Where are the Cardassians now?' Worf replied, '600,000 kilometres away. Kurn is waiting, hoping they will venture closer. They will not. Their progress has slowed, they are stopping.' He paused, continuing, 'Ah, Kurn has reached the same conclusion. His forces are decloaking and re-deploying to blockade the renegade. They are moving in to the attack. The rogue is moving to the flank. They are weak there. He will break through.'

'Not if I can help it. Helm lay in a course to intercept, full impulse. Mr. Worf, prepare a full spread of photon torpedoes, maximum yield.' Picard spoke determinedly continuing softly, 'but I hope we won't have to use them.' As he spoke a flare erupted on the viewscreen in front of them. They blinked rapidly, Picard ordering, 'Report!' Worf growled angrily. 'They have de-cloaked sir and fired on Kurn's forces. One of his ships has been destroyed.' He gazed into the viewscreen, intoning, 'batlh Daqawlu'taH'. _You will be remembered with honour!_ Riker turned to Picard commenting, 'Time to remove the gloves, Captain?' Picard responded regretfully, 'Agreed Number One. Mr. Worf, return fire at will.' Worf's finger - ready and waiting - jabbed down viciously on the launch control. A bright group of a half dozen orange balls erupted from the Enterprise launch bays. Quickly followed by two more matching sets. They sped swiftly towards their target. Meanwhile Picard's mind turned to the defensive, 'Helm attack pattern Delta. Execute Full Impulse. Engage.'

As Picard's commands were followed more unwelcome news was forthcoming from Worf. 'Sir the renegade has engaged cloak. They have broken through the blockade. Kurn's forces are pursuing.' Picard swore, 'Damn. Lay in an intercept course. Maximum warp. Engage!' The Enterprise leapt forward streaking like a bullet after their prey. It soon became obvious that they were unlikely to succeed. The rogue's lead was too great. An unexpected element introduced itself however. Under cloak the rogue was unable to engage its shield. It began to take hits from the closest of its pursuers. It slowed.

* * *

><p>Macet swore. 'No Evek, we cannot afford this!' His opponent rounded furiously on him replying, 'What would you prefer? To die while running with our tails between our legs? I will not allow that!' The response was pounced on. 'You will not allow that? Who are you to make demands? I am Gul Macet, commander of the Second Order. You are only Fourth Order and as such..' Evek cursed violently, 'Enough, it will be done! Helm set course for the lead Klingon. Tactical, prepare to disengage cloak.' By now incoherent with rage Macet bellowed furiously, 'Belay those orders! Nobody does anything unless I say so!' The words cut through the heightening tension. Silence reigned supreme.<p>

All attention turned to Terek on the helm. He began to feel the beads of sweat gather on his forehead. His next move decided all their fates, most especially his. If he obeyed Macet then any future dealings with Evek would be forfeit. If however he obeyed Evek, not only would he be defying a very powerful and influential Gul; he would also be signing all their death warrants. He had no illusions about their life expectancy against a full squadron of Vor'cha attack cruisers and a fully operational Sovereign class starship with an elite - very experienced and battle hardened - Federation crew. Very carefully, slowly he dropped his hands to his sides. Macet breathed out slowly, 'Excellent! Now, set course for the Enterprise, full impulse. Engage!' Stunned Terek faltered at the controls, before complying with the order. Evek jerked his head sharply in the direction of the ready room. Understanding his intent Macet shook his head, no. Now was not the time for that discussion.

* * *

><p>'Qutvatlh!' The expletive burst from Kurn's lips 'Ah.. Qagh'a'' <em>A big mistake!<em> He turned in his seat, inquiring, 'nuHotlhpu'a'?' _Have they scanned us?_ He smiled wolfishly displaying his teeth at the reply, 'ghobe'!', and commanded, 'nughoStaH, yIghoStaH. Cha yIghuS! yIjuntaH' _Intercept them, fire torpedoes...! Evasive action!_ His voice took on a confused tone. The rogue had swept by, completely ignoring his actions. It headed in apparent suicide straight for the Enterprise, 'Qi'yah! ghuycha! baH, baH! nom.' Cursing violently he ordered a withering blast of disruptor fire to be directed after the fleeing ship.

'Hard to port! What the hell does he think he's doing?' On board the bridge of the Enterprise the situation was no less confused. As Worf rapidly redirected the defences Data's hands flew over his controls attempting to make some sense of what was happening. Picard and Riker turned to Troi expectantly, 'Counsellor?' Picard inquired. 'I have absolutely no idea I'm afraid. Perhaps they are trying to break up our attack by behaving in an apparent irrational manner.' She did not sound convince by her own words. 'Could be.. It could also be that they recognize that they have lost and are seeking to die in a blaze of glory, by taking us down with them!' Riker growled.

In the time the discussion had taken the rogue had swept through their defences, then cut to starboard. It raced along the rear of their defensive line. Entering warp suddenly it was soon racing rapidly away. All ships acted in unison, swinging round swiftly in pursuit of their quarry. They charged furiously into warp, firing all weapons in a vain attempt to slow the flight, but to no avail. It became clear to all that they were unlikely to be able to overhaul their quarry before it had gained a very dangerous lead. Then suddenly it disappeared from all sensors.

Subspace was filled with the angry howls of eleven Klingon battlecruiser captains, and one quite frustrated Federation captain too who was unable to shield his despair. The wild tactics of the Cardassian commander had succeeded, despite their best efforts. He sighed in sheer desperation, then a thought struck, and he turned to Troi. 'Counsellor, it appears that your theory was correct. I apologize for doubting you.' Troi smiled in response, commenting, 'Thank you Captain. But apologies are unnecessary.' Worf rumbled expletives under his breath while Riker tapped furiously at his padd, firing sporadic questions at various members of the bridge crew. Finally he sat back and looked across to Picard expectantly. 'Yes Number One?' Riker cleared his throat. 'First the bad news. They are far enough ahead of us that we would be unable to catch them - even at maximum warp - before they reach the Cardassian border. Now the good news. If we set up a blockade similar to the one attempted by Kurn at a tangent to their course, but cutting across it, we may be able to shepherd them along the border until such time as we are able to re-engage them. To accomplish this I would suggest contacting Captain DeSoto at DS9 and finding out what ships he can lay his hands on in a hurry. Contacting Admiral Henry would also probably prove helpful.'

'Agreed. Make it so.' Picard had obviously lost any hope he may have retained that this could be resolved without bloodshed; 'You have the bridge Number One.' He stood and strode swiftly to the ready room. Dropping into the chair behind his desk he swiftly entered his security code and requested a priority channel to Starfleet Command. Without delay the Federation Seal onscreen was replaced with the visage of Admiral Henry, lines of concern furrowing his brow. 'Yes Jean-Luc. What news?' Picard swallowed before replying. 'Bad I'm afraid. We intercepted the renegade as planned, but the intervention of a Ferengi Marauder managed to spoil our plans. We lost one of Kurn's ships, and the rogue was last seen heading at high warp in the direction of the Cardassian border.' Henry's expression darkened then he inquired, 'What is your next move?'

Picard spoke briskly; 'We intend to contact Robert DeSoto with a view to blockading the border. With a bit of luck we should be able to shepherd them along the border until such time as we are able to intercept them ourselves.' The admiral regarded him, then nodded his agreement; 'Make it so.' The connection was terminated.

* * *

><p>'O.K. Tess, you can go now, everything seems to be in order', Crusher spoke confidently. Allenby swung her legs off the couch and stood in front of her. 'Thanks Doctor Crusher', and after a disproving glower in Bashir's direction she left the room. As she stepped through the door she passed Riker entering. He stopped muttering, 'Are we still alright for this evening Tess? She glanced in his direction mumbling a response, then turned away.<p>

Shaking his head he strode towards Crusher. His eyebrow raised enquiringly; 'What's with her?' Crusher glanced at him, intent on her tricorder readout, 'Um nothing she's..' She became acutely aware of whom she was speaking to, 'er.. She's just a bit tired that's all. I've told her to take things easy for a few days.' The hesitation in her voice had not gone unnoticed however. Riker scrutinized her expression carefully, but could find no evidence of any deception. He realized that such was not in Crusher's character, and that if she was concealing something she was usually honest enough to say so. Besides, as first officer he was informed of all medical conditions likely to impair the performance or judgment of any crewmember as a matter of course. So he shrugged off the question knowing that information would be forthcoming shortly.

'So, what can I do for you Will?' Beverly became businesslike to cover up her slip. He smiled and looked at her a little sheepishly. Recognizing the signs of one of his embarrassing, but usually comical injuries, she steeled herself promising - not for the first time - that she would not laugh. He groaned, rolling up his sleeve, disclosing a series of long scratches up his forearm. Crusher found them oddly familiar. Then it hit; 'Aren't those...?' He grimaced and nodded replying, 'Ahuh. Cat claw marks. Remember when Data attended that cybernetics symposium on Biplane III?' She nodded; 'Yeah well, Data asked me to look in on Spot once in a while.. Feed her. The trouble with feeding a cat is that you have to be in close proximity.. And what is so funny?' He concluded irritably.

Beverly was standing, bent over an examination couch. Her head was in her folded arms, her shoulders shaking. The howls of mirth echoed over the room. She straightened up wiping the tears from her eyes, attempting to regain her composure. The attempt was very short-lived. One look at his aggrieved visage was enough to set her off again. Meanwhile, Bashir, attracted by the sounds of merriment, had approached the small group. Smiling in greeting to Riker, he glanced in an aloof manner at Crusher commenting, 'Pay no attention to her Commander. I've been trying all week to get her to treat her patients with a bit more decorum. Come over here, we'll leave her to her fun.' They walked over to a distant couch, Riker hopped up to sit on it as Bashir reached for a skin regenerative probe.

'You know Commander, the life of a doctor is really quite varied', Bashir chattered away quite cheerily. Riker sat quietly barely noticing the happy prattle. He became aware that he had missed something important, then his head jerked up; 'I'm sorry Doctor, what did you say?' Bashir blinked, 'Er I said, 'And then there was..' Crusher appeared at his elbow, 'Julian I need a hand if you're not too busy?' He turned away making his good-byes to Riker as he approached Beverly stood next to a lieutenant holding his hand up to his face. Will attempted to regain his attention, but to no avail. He stood and strode purposefully out of the sickbay, deep in thought.

* * *

><p>'Sir, transmission coming in from the Enterprise', the young ensign turned towards DeSoto expectantly. His head snapped up from its position scrutinizing the nearby status board as he registered the information. 'In my ready room!' He disappeared through the sliding doors adrenaline racing in expectancy. He slid quickly behind his desk, mind clearing of the million and one problems that had surfaced during the emergency refit. Recalling that it had been the plan that he would be the one to contact the Enterprise, and not the other way around he felt a sudden knot of tension develop in his stomach. Jean-Luc Picard never changed the plan. Something was badly wrong. Quickly tapping in his ID code he saw the face of Jean-Luc Picard appear in front of him. He instantly knew that all was not well. He sat back in his chair and regarded his old friend warily. Finally he spoke;<p>

'O.K. Jean-Luc, what happened?' He inquired briskly. Picard growled, then related the events that had transpired. DeSoto swore; 'Damn Ferengi! If they hadn't..' Jean-Luc held up his hand, 'I know, I know. But there's nothing we can do now, except for..' Quickly he filled DeSoto in on the details of his current plan. DeSoto thought swiftly; 'I should be able to get my hands on quite a few ships. As you know, the Charleston, Potemkin and Merrimac are engaged in search and - hopefully - destroy manoeuvres in the sector. The Endeavor can probably be pulled from escort of the Itel - the Cardassians are known to be heading this way now - let's see who else..' He called up a manifest of the Federation operations in the sector, then resumed; 'Hmmm. Yeah, the Akagi's free, so too the Monitor.. and.. hey get this, the Galaxy herself is just coming on-line after her latest baryon sweep - you know he'd never forgive you if he missed the party!'

Picard held up a hand once again, fearful his friend would attempt to rope in the entire fleet if he didn't pull on the reins slightly; 'Yes thank you Robert, I think that will be quite enough!' Counting off on his fingers; 'One Rigel, two Excelsior, three Nebula, a Galaxy and a Sovereign class starship ought to be enough to handle one rogue Galaxy class - especially when backed up by nearly a full squadron of angry Klingons manning Vor'cha class attack cruisers!' DeSoto nodded then looked up sharply; 'Er Jean-Luc, haven't you miscounted? Don't you mean three Excelsior class ships?' Picard regarded him in mock innocence; 'I don't think so Robert. The Charleston and Potemkin are the only Excelsiors you mentioned. Who else did you have in mind to help?' DeSoto was completely wrong-footed; 'I, er well I.. That is the Hood is.. Oh alright, very funny!' Picard was chuckling merrily at his friend's confusion; 'Do you mean that the Hood would be available Robert?' A growl was his response. He laughed and cut the communication, leaving DeSoto to organize the assembly of the fleet.

* * *

><p>'Very well Mr. LaForge. It appears that your earlier suggestion will have to be implemented. With the suspected course of the renegade now more localized we should be able to construct a tachyon grid of sufficient mass to prevent their passage across the demilitarised zone, or any other part of the border. You will need to transmit the schematics of our earlier plan to the Hood who are coordinating the effort. Incidentally, did your examination of the combat logs of the Intrepid bear any fruit?' He waited with bated breath for the answer. Geordie's eyes swivelled in his direction before replying; 'Yes sir. First the bad news, the Intrepid did not get off a single shot'; At this Picard raised his hand to quell the outburst he knew was swelling within Worf's throat; 'Meaning the rogue got a full load of weapons off her. Secondly, the good - in our encounter they were forced to fire off almost a third of their entire augmented inventory in order to make good their escape. So, they are left with probably half to three quarters of a full load. Not counting those used in other attacks of course.' He attempted to finish on a high, but failed rather badly. No-one was pleased with the report.<p>

'Very well Mr. LaForge. I suggest you depart to Engineering to prepare the transmission to the Hood. Dismissed.' Geordie stood and departed swiftly to complete the tasks at hand. He realized that they were not as easy as they seemed. He needed to know the strength and characteristics of the ships involved in this encounter before he could assess the validity of the data he was to transmit. Communicating with the Chief Engineer of the Hood would be necessary. Closely followed by numerous simulations to determine the optimum configuration based on the information supplied by the Hood. He sighed and stepped off the turbo-lift, turning left into Engineering proper. He called over his team; 'Reg, Sonya, get over here', he clapped his hands together, 'we got work to do, let's move people! It's gonna be a long night!'

* * *

><p>'Damage report sir', the young officer approached the two Guls nervously. He tried to make his comment as ambiguous as possible, not to show preference to either officer. As Terek before him had observed there would be subsequent encounters with both. In any case Macet snatched the proffered padd and scoured it intently. He snarled and threw it to Evek. The young messenger took the opportunity to exit, somewhat hastily. As he left quickly he caught the angry response of Evek as the door to the ready room slid closed behind him.<p>

'You see what your recklessness has cost us Evek? Dammit this is..' Evek cut in angrily, 'Pah, you have no stomach for battle Macet. You are no Cardassian!' The comment caused a flash of anger in the eyes of the senior officer, but he maintained his temper continuing his criticism as if the other had not spoken; '.. stupid! This list of repairs', he snatched the padd from Evek and slammed it on the desk, 'will take us hours to complete. Meanwhile, we cannot engage the cloak while the repairs are underway. We will be vulnerable, visible to the Federation sensors. While they hunt us down!'

Outside Terek glanced at Seetel. The once ebullient officer was pale. He knew how close it had really been. Not the propaganda spread about by the two Guls. He was a veteran of the Cardassian/Federation wars, having served on the front-line. He knew the power of the forces they now faced. He was frightened. He knew of the search the Federation had mounted for them, and of the strength of feeling certain of their opponents felt towards Cardassians in general, and toward them specifically. Not for the first time he felt afraid and tasted the acrid bile of fear in his throat. Seetel noticed his attention and smiled shyly in response, but the returning smile was wan and listless.

* * *

><p>'Sure Captain DeSoto, no problem!' Kira was in effusive mood. Despite news of the loss of the Klingon ship she felt good about the current situation. The combined combat logs showed that the force had significantly hurt the Cardassians. They would have to hide up for repairs, which meant - she grinned wolfishly - they would be visible to anyone looking in the right direction. It was simply a matter of working out what the right direction was. That was where DeSoto and his blockade force came in. To herd the renegade into the funnel, at the bottom of which lay DS9, and hopefully the Enterprise et al, to deliver the final coup-de gras.<p>

DeSoto grinned, 'Good Colonel. I was hoping you'd say that. If you can act as command and control on this then we can liaise more freely with both forces. Anyway, thanks. I have to go sort through the comms we've had from the other fleet members. I'll be speaking to you soon. DeSoto out.' He pressed the key to cut the transmission. In Kira's office the screen darkened, then was replaced by the Federation seal. She turned away from her ODN terminal deep in thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

'Julian!' He swung around. The call had come from the other side of the expansive bar which dominated Ten-Forward. Will Riker was beckoning to him. Picking up his glass he slid off his seat and made his way over to the empty seat next to that occupied by the not inconsiderable figure of the Enterprise' first officer. He sat down, raising his glass in silent toast to Riker. 'What are you drinking?' Riker inquired solicitously. Bashir indicated his glass and Riker beckoned to a nearby waiter indicating a refill of both their glasses. He glanced at the junior officer gauging his mood. Now seemed as good a time as any.

'So Julian, quiet day?' Bashir leant his arm on the bar and stared deep into his glass, remembering the fury of the scramble to arms - as it were - when battle was joined. He sighed and replied softly, 'Don't I wish!' His face brightened, 'Mind you there were high spots. I was working with a wonderful person..' Riker glanced sideways at him, realising that he had it very bad. Wondering if Beverly knew how bad. He dragged his mind back to the reason he had asked Bashir to join him. 'Was that all, the company I mean?' The loaded question, yet Bashir seemed totally oblivious to any special meaning. He considered, then grinned; 'Well no. There was one other thing. Beverly got a bit cross with me actually. Apparently my bedside manner needs a bit of work!' He laughed, joined by Riker who inquired, 'Why?' Bashir shrugged, 'Oh nothing really, just that I need to practice a little more restraint in giving good news.'

Riker's interest was piqued; 'Oh yes? What was that?' He reached for his glass awaiting Bashir's reply. 'Oh er, yeah that's right. We have a prospective mother-to-be on board. Perhaps you know her, an ensign, Tess something, Allenby I think.' He recoiled from the tremendous snort from his side as a shower of synthahol splattered his face. Instinctively he wiped his cheek clean with his hand. Then, confused he turned and began banging the choking Commander on the back. Riker coughed repeatedly, snorting, wiping at the tears welling up in his eyes. His throat sore he sipped gently at the remnants of his drink, most of which now decorated the back of the bar, Julian's uniform, other customers, assorted waiters. Riker regained his composure slowly. Then as sense returned he became dimly aware of the facts of the case at hand. A female officer he was currently emotionally involved with was pregnant. It did not take a great deal of thought to.. He swore softly.

* * *

><p>'Oh Julian, you didn't!' Bashir was in trouble again. This time however, he was at a loss to understand how. He mumbled a nervous reply. Beverly was cross - very cross. Bashir felt suddenly irritated that he was being blamed for something he had no control over. He voiced this feeling, at great length; 'Well how was I supposed to know? I mean, ship's gossip has never been much of an interest of mine. Tell me, how was I supposed to know that Will Riker was romantically involved with Tess Allenby?' Beverly groaned. She knew he was right, and yet.. She grinned suddenly, 'Poor Will. Tell me again how he took the news.' Julian looked sardonically at her; 'You, are a sadist. Not a good trait in a doctor', he grinned and laughed, 'Oh alright! He choked profusely, spat damn near half a glass of synthale over me, the bar and several unfortunates nearby, then I performed the Heimlich Manoeuvre to help him recover his breath. Now, are you done?'<p>

Beverly smiled and patted his shoulder. He looked over at her and grinned. She cleared her throat and replied softly; 'Yes. Look Julian, I'm sorry I blasted off at you. It's just that, I've known Will Riker a long time. I care about him. He's going to be very confused right now and he's going to need help. Especially as he's operating - probably - under the mistaken assumption that he's the father.' Now Bashir gave up completely and dropped any pretence of knowing what was going on; 'Huh? He isn't?' Beverly shook her head, 'No, come on, did you honestly think he was?' He ignored the question, thinking it's answer obvious, 'So why the drama?' Beverly glared at him exasperated, 'Because he's forgotten that she was seeing Lieutenant Carlton before him. And because he's male he thinks that because he is seeing her when the news breaks, naturally that he's the daddy! Wrong, very wrong. Couldn't hardly be more wrong.'

He wiped a hand over his face. It came away slick with sweat. He groaned loudly, expressively. A thought struck, 'Hold on, so if he isn't the father, shouldn't we tell him? I mean.. What?' Beverly once again was shaking her head vehemently. Divining her meaning he was shocked, 'You can't mean not tell him? That's cruel.' Beverly grinned, 'Yes, but very funny. Very, very funny!' It was his turn to shake his head, no; 'Where is he now?' She shrugged, 'I don't know, but I could make a very good guess!'

* * *

><p>He coughed nervously. It had been a long time since such a big man had felt so totally and utterly terrified. He pressed the actuator of the door courtesy panel and waited. The reply was not long in coming; 'Come in!' He stepped forward and the door slid open. The room's occupant had her back to him. She was leant over a vase, watering the flowers it contained. He found himself idly admiring her and mentally slapped himself. That was how he'd managed to get himself into the current mess. He coughed. She turned around; 'Oh, hi Will!'<p>

'Imzadi.' She eyed him curiously. The only time he ever used that word was when he had a problem. Of the female variety. Suspecting that she knew the reason she indicated the couch. He sat down slowly, and she sat on a nearby chair. He was fidgeting nervously, his head down as he picked at his fingernails. She was now very curious. This would have to be a very serious problem. One that she now really wanted to know. The waves of emotion flooding in from him were nearly flooding her senses.

'It's Tess..' She cut in, 'I know that, what about her?' He continued nervously, 'She er, she's.. she's pregnant Deanna!' Troi gulped. This was not good. No wonder - she suddenly realised - he'd been so weird when they'd briefed the Captain on the civilian evacuation problem. He must have suspected something, but only just had it confirmed. She looked across at him, wondering how to respond. 'Are you saying you think you're the father?' She inquired slowly. He looked up sharply, 'Well who else is there? I mean to say..' She interrupted swiftly, 'What does Beverly say?' He shrugged. She mimicked the motion as she replied; 'What does.. mean? Come on Will, you're being no help at all!' He growled, 'So what am I supposed to say? That I just found out by accident from Doctor Bashir in Ten-Forward? That I choked and spat half a glass of synthale over him? And that..'

The door enunciator interrupted him. Troi sighed in exasperation. Interruption she did not need, not now. 'Come in!' Irritated. She stared as Beverly Crusher walked in, followed swiftly by Julian Bashir. 'I hope we're not interrupting anything?' Crusher inquired sweetly, but far too innocently. Troi scanned her empathically. She could read extreme amusement and very little else. She frowned. Beverly must know the situation. There was no call for amusement in the current state of play. Unless - the frown deepened - unless all was not quite as it appeared. She did not believe that Bashir would have lied to Will. Which left Will's assumption that he was the father. She let her gaze wander between Will and Beverly, catching her eye. Equally subtly Beverly shook her auburn head, no. Being very careful, Troi noticed, to conceal the grin fighting just below the surface.

'So, Beverly, what can I do for you?' She smiled. Beverly's self control gave up. She grinned openly. 'Well, it's not actually you I wanted to see Deanna, it's Will.' She turned to Riker, 'Congratulations Will, I just heard!' There was a snort from Bashir, a warning note in his voice as he spoke; 'Beverly! Remember what we agreed?' She turned to him, a disappointed expression on her face; 'Spoilsport! Oh, alright! Actually Will, I have a bit of good news for you. Julian tells me that he let slip about Tess' pregnancy..' Will spluttered, 'Let slip!' She coughed, trying to fight back the fit of giggles; 'Er yes. Anyhow, as usual I did all the usual tests. And found out the name of the father..' The sentence had an unfinished air, hanging as it was in the air like a time bomb.

Having had enough of the suspense Deanna broke the spell. 'O.K. Beverly, now spill it!' The comment got her a '_Thanks__a__lot!_'. 'Lieutenant Carlton. Will, she was already pregnant when you started seeing her. She's three weeks gone, and you only started seeing her, what? Ten days ago?' He nodded having breathed a shuddering sigh, but not one - Troi noticed - of relief. Puzzled she regarded him quizzically. He shrugged, and all the pieces fell into place at once. He had been looking forward - nervously, yes - to being a dad. He was at the age when he was looking back on his life and - she realised - regretting that all he saw was career. Where was the legacy of Will Riker? She reached out to touch his hand gently. Looked over to speak to Bashir and Crusher. And found they were alone.

'Will, I know! It hurts, no doubt she will want to go back to him now. But I also know that it is not the only reason you're hurting. You wanted this to be your child. You're looking back - probably at us..', he winced, '..and thinking what have I done with my life? What do I have to show for myself? Will, you have everything going for you. Don't spoil it all. Don't rush into something without thinking it through properly first...' She stopped as he held up his hand to quiet her; 'Deanna, thanks. But I think I need to work this one out on my own.' He stood and she rose to her feet following him. As he reached the door he turned and kissed her on the cheek. 'Imzadi.' She swallowed fighting her emotions, husking 'Forever Will, forever.' He turned and left to return to his own quarters.

Left on her own Deanna reflected. On Will. On how very much like Picard he was becoming. There had been a time when he had told her everything, and he would never have concealed anything. Especially not of this magnitude. He was becoming a loner. A very private person. His emotions - she winced as she recalled his reaction to Sandy's death - were becoming more raw and untamed. It worried her. She sighed. 'I think I'd better clear some free time for the next couple of weeks!'

* * *

><p>'Colonel, the Akagi, Monitor and Charleston are all calling in', Kira Nerys was feeling harassed. She shrugged helplessly. Space was becoming full. This many ships in a tight pack was not only confusing to administer, but inherently dangerous. Kira mumbled 'Where do I put them?' Realising the ensign was awaiting her response she scowled; 'Oh, I don't know. Tell them to er, hold their positions and keep their manoeuvring thrusters only on line. We don't need any accidents.' She turned, 'Chief, liaise with all the Chief Engineers. Tell them we've got to transmit the data to the Enterprise now! If we don't the renegade might slip past before we're ready.' O'Brien pushed away from his console replying, 'Aye Colonel.' He turned and strode onto the turbolift, commanding, 'Docking pylon three.' The lift rose and he disappeared from sight. As he waited for his journey to come to an end he tapped his communicator as a thought occurred.<p>

'Colonel, please contact the fleet and request all Chief Engineers to transport to DS9? I think it would be best to carry out the briefing onboard, and save time.' The reply was swift and abrupt, 'Acknowledged. Kira out.' He stepped off the lift and made his way toward the transporter room. Time was - as had been noted - of the essence. He stepped through the door as the first of the arrivals, the representative from the Hood, was stepping down from the central pedestal. He stepped forward introducing himself; 'Miles O'Brien, Operations Chief.' The other grasped the proffered hand in a firm handshake, replying, 'Tony A'Kell, Chief Engineer, the Hood.' He glanced around commenting, 'Nice place you've got here.' O'Brien eyed him warily, unsure if he was the victim of a joke. But the face, which returned his scrutiny, was completely without guile. He took it at face value; 'Thanks, we like it.'

* * *

><p>The atmosphere on the Enterprise was tense. Maintaining a constant red alert status was beginning to wear on all crewmembers. Picard glanced wearily to his side as the turbolift door slid open. He sighed as Beverly Crusher entered. Not entirely unexpected. She strode up to his chair and stood in front of him, deliberately making a show of examining all three of those sat in the command chairs. He groaned; 'Yes Doctor?' The reply was swift; 'All three of you are showing signs of serious lack of rest. Basic exhaustion is only a hairsbreadth away. I wouldn't be doing my job if I allowed you to remain on duty. As of now I'm ordering you all to quarters', as they hesitated, 'Go on, move! I'll make sure you're advised at once if anything happens to require your attention.' Grumbling good naturally, for they all knew she was right, all three stood up, Riker arching his back to stretch his stiff muscles. They traipsed slowly to the turbolift as their replacements slid into place. Picard noticing as the doors closed that Crusher herself took Riker's place as Data dropped into his chair.<p>

He stood back against the rear of the lift, arms crossed across his chest. Troi regarded him from the side curiously; 'Captain?' His head rose slowly his expression quizzical; 'Yes Counsellor?' She returned his gaze, 'I know you wanted to stay. But Beverly's right. We all need to rest, I know I do. It just seemed too much effort to move when we didn't have too though, didn't it? Will?' Drawing Riker into the discussion. They both nodded resignedly. She grinned happily having scored the point. Riker spoke up, 'So what do we do now? I feel like a spare part!' Troi glanced at him pityingly; 'Sleep Will, sleep. That's the whole idea. Go back to your quarters, set the computer to wake you in eight hours, then sleep. At least, that's what I'm going to do! See you!' The turbolift doors slid open and she disappeared down the corridor to their left. Picard glanced at Riker grinning suddenly; 'Sounds good to me Number One. See you in eight hours.' He tapped Will's shoulder as he too stepped off the lift and made his way back to his quarters.

Riker sighed heavily and he too exited the turbolift. He groaned as he walked slowly back to his quarters. He rubbed his face in his hands. Damn, he felt horrible. He slipped into his quarters. At the sight of his bed, he suddenly realised how tired he really was. Not bothering to undress he dropped onto the bed, and within seconds was fast asleep. But it was not a peaceful sleep. The events of the day kept looming up out of the dark, Tess, the ball of flame as the Klingon ship disintegrated, the face of a child, Troi. He stirred restlessly, but did not wake.

* * *

><p>'Colonel, we're being hailed by the Hood.' Kira glanced up; 'Yes, Ensign?' The young officer replied swiftly, 'They say the transmission to the Enterprise is complete. We should get the results in two hours.' Kira grinned; 'Excellent! Keep me posted.' She turned and stepped up into her office and the door slid shut behind her.<p>

* * *

><p>'How's it looking Data?' Geordi was tired, irritable, and very unimpressed. The stats they had received from the fleet were not anything like what he had expected - or that he had hoped for. The coverage available with the provided data was not nearly sufficient, and it was not shaping up to be one of his better days. Data regarded him quizzically noting the tone in his friend's voice. He phrased his answer very carefully, knowing that Geordi was not going to be particularly pleased with it; 'I think we have a problem Geordi', he responded. Geordi was not at all satisfied with this answer and replied, testily, 'Yes Data, that I could figure out for myself! What is the problem?' He was aggravated and weary. He really did not need Data spoon-feeding him information.<p>

Data paused before replying. 'The tachyon pulse from the Merrimac is going to be significantly lower than that of any other ship, and there is going to be a corresponding weakness in our grid as a result. If we are to achieve full coverage their output will have to be supplemented somehow. However, at the present time, I have no idea how this will be accomplished. Rerouting more power through their deflector dish could, conceivably, burn it out completely. Unfortunately, I cannot perceive any other option at this time. Unless, of course, you have any ideas of your own?' He prompted. The silence lengthened as he awaited the response of the Enterprise' Chief Engineer. Who was currently scowling in a displeased, almost ferocious manner.

His answer was forestalled however, by the arrival in Engineering of Picard. LaForge glanced up, surprise replacing the annoyance on his face. This was a totally unexpected occurrence, and he was a little nonplussed by the motivation behind it. Picard strode toward them purposefully. Evidently the previous eight hours sleep had done him infinite good, for he was bright-eyed and alert. Not to mention being in a very inquisitive mood. Geordi noted the latter quality glumly. He knew that the report he was about to make to the captain was not calculated to prolong the good mood for very much longer.

'Captain, sir, I wasn't expecting you', he began warily. Picard noted his tone before replying; 'Relax Mr. LaForge, this is not an official inspection, have no fear. I merely came down, before returning to the bridge, to inquire how the analysis of the data received from DS9 is progressing. Is there any news as yet?' As Data had before him, Geordi considered his reply carefully; 'Yes sir', he replied, 'And I'm afraid it is not good! According to the data, and our Data', he grinned wryly, 'the Merrimac's output is not going to be sufficient for our purpose. The result of which, is that we won't be able to get full coverage. I'm sorry sir.' Picard grinned broadly in response, a totally unexpected reaction. 'Excellent!' Geordi was thrown completely off balance; 'I'm sorry sir? Er, how is that good exactly?' Picard, still smiling, enlightened him.

'Well Geordi', he began, speaking as if to a small child, 'If there is a small gap in the tachyon grid, that we know of, and that will be evident to the Cardassians, perhaps we can herd them into it. At which point we can close the trap, ensnare them', Geordi interrupted, 'And nail them!' Picard regarded him dubiously, 'Yes, so although essentially bad news, this weakness may be turned to our advantage. Please transmit your specifications and any recommendations to Colonel Kira at DS9. She has agreed that DS9 be the C & C centre for the duration of this operation. I shall be dispatching my own messages to both parties, especially to impress upon the Merrimac's captain the pivotal role his ship is to play in the coming drama.' He waited expectantly. 'Aye sir', Geordi snapped, 'I'll get right on it!' He returned his attention to the console to his rear; 'Ensign establish a secure datalink to DS9.' Picard turned to his second officer; 'Mr. Data, if you're finished here, a word if I may?' His upturned palm extended outward indicated the door behind them. Data nodded and strode swiftly out, pausing at the door, to allow Picard to exit ahead of him.

* * *

><p>Macet sat in the command chair. Drumming his fingers angrily on the armrest to his side. Similarly Evek occupied the first officer's chair, looking decidedly ill at ease. Not at all happy with his current, unfamiliar post. 'Status!' Macet snapped. Glowering Evek responded, 'Repairs are still underway. They should be completed within thirty minutes. We may then continue on our course to the Cardassian border. Macet grimaced, 'Fool! Don't you realise that the Federation will be ready and waiting for us by now? We must choose another path.' He could tell Evek disagreed. 'Well? You have another proposal?' The reply hissed through the space between them; 'Yes!' Spitting from between Evek's lips. 'What is it?' Evek's eyes hardened, unused to such peremptory commands.<p>

'Our crews are not well equipped to carry out the required repairs. They have only been able to effect patches to the systems. As such a shorter, more direct route, is the only one which guarantees our survival as far as the Cardassian border, much less the success of the entire mission. Agreed, a more circuitous route would be safer, but we would run out of supplies, and fail the very instant we attempt to gain more. Macet grunted sourly. He knew that Evek was undoubtedly correct in his assessment. But he despised the thought. He made a swift, distasteful, decision. 'Very well, agreed.' The remark caught Evek off-guard, and Macet pounced; 'Well? What are you waiting for? Get us underway! Now!'

'Evek to Engineering. Bring the warp-core back on-line. I want to be underway the instant repairs are complete. Evek out!' The response, 'Aye sir!', quite unnecessary, was heard. In the Cardassian military a response was never required, as the automatic assumption was that an order given would be obeyed. Confirmation was akin to an insult. The bridge became deathly quiet. There followed an abrupt, hasty, transmission; 'My apologies sir!' Evek merely grunted, 'See that it doesn't happen again! Bridge out!'

* * *

><p>As the lift gate swung open, O'Brien bounded onto the upper deck of Ops. He caught hold of the sides of the stairs and slid down to the central station. He kicked at the nearest console, swearing vehemently, 'Bloody Cardassians! Can't make anything that'll work for more than five minutes without breaking! How the hell do I fix this? He booted the console again. He was amazed to see an array of control displays light its' surface. Quickly he ran a diagnostic of its main functions. He grinned, then laughed aloud. Scratching his head briskly with his free hand; 'Well, I don't know how, but it's working!' A better engineer than some, he added under his breath, 'Still, I would like to know why it broke down in the first place!'<p>

He turned to find Kira behind him, arms folded across her chest. A broad grin splayed across her face. 'Yes, Colonel? Anything wrong?' Kira's grin broadened; 'Er, no Chief, I was just, er, observing your.. unique.. operating style.' O'Brien grunted good naturedly, responding, 'Well it works for me! Anyway', he tapped the console behind him, 'Should be OK now!' Kira stepped up, all business; 'Good, we need that sensor array. It wouldn't do for the Cardassians to arrive unannounced. That could ruin a lot of people's days, ours included!'

O'Brien's eyes flashed to the display to his right. Noting the incoming transmission from LaForge he quickly entered his code key, surmising that the encryption of the incoming data would be keyed to him. He grinned as the garbled data became clear. He was right. Geordi had remembered his code key and tailored the transmission to his personal attention. Then as the content of the message became evident to him he grimaced in turn. Kira was quick to notice his demeanour.

'What is it Chief?'

'Looks like trouble. The Merrimac doesn't have the power to lay down the coverage in their sector of the net. Captain Picard seems to think that the Cardassians will spot the weakness and attempt to exploit it. He feels that if the gap is exploited we can use it to our advantage and slam the door behind them once they take the bait...'

'But you don't agree.' It was a statement.

O'Brien glanced at Kira, a question in his eyes. Understanding dawned on her and she thought swiftly. 'Ah. I agree. Macet is not stupid. Nor is Evek. If they see the gap, there is no guarantee that they will swallow the bait. The problem is what they will do then', O'Brien nodded slowly in agreement. Tactical Chief of a starship, the USS Rutledge at Setlik III, during the Cardassian border wars, he had vast firsthand experience of Cardassian tactics. He grimaced, as his instincts told him the most likely effect of the Cardassians encountering the hostile net and the weakness therein.

'They'll pounce', he commented flatly, 'open the gap wide with phasers and photons. Probably target the Merrimac and possibly the ships either side. Then pour on the power and drive straight through at warp. We'll have little or no opportunity to prevent it.'

Kira nodded her agreement to his assessment. She clamped her lips tight in deep thought. Gathering together every scrap of data she knew of Cardassians in general and of the two Guls, Macet and Evek in particular. Her teeth ground together as she concentrated on the task at hand. Aware that those around were waiting, she gathered her wits.

'Best I can suggest is that we pull back once they reveal their position... then rip them apart with phaser and photon fire. Only problem with that is.. they will reveal their position by destroying one or more of our ships.

So.. we are left with weighing up the position. Do we sacrifice one ship or even two to prevent a future war which could cost billions of lives on both sides?'

She paused, thinking. All eyes rested on her. She shifted uneasily. Devil's Advocate was not a position she was remotely content with. Nor, she realised with some relief, one she had to maintain. Turning to the Ops officer she snapped, 'Get me the Enterprise.. now! Chief... you continue to liaise with LaForge to lay out the net. For now we will continue with plan A, until such time as we are advised of any alternative.' Both officers nodded and turned away to resume stance at their consoles.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

Picard rubbed his hands up the sides of his nose and over his eyes. Lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him, again. His head jerked up at a bleep behind him.. A hair ahead of the announcement from Worf.

'Sir.. Incoming transmission from DS9. It is Colonel Kira…. She is asking to speak with you in private'.

Picard raised an eyebrow at that. Not good. 'In my Ready Room Mr Worf. Wil, you have the Bridge'. He left a very curious Riker behind as he strode into the Captain's Ready Room to his left. Slipping behind the desk he quickly entered his access code and barked;

'Yes Colonel?'

The visage that greeted him was not a happy one. Kira got right to the point; 'It would appear we have a problem. The Merrimac doesn't have enough power to sustain its' allotted section of the grid. So we have two choices. Either we strengthen that area or we allow the Cardassians through. Chief O'Brien with all due respect to you, does not concur with your assessment of the Cardassian's reaction to seeing the gap. You no doubt recall he was Tac…'

'Tactical Chief of the Rutledge at Setlik III during the Border Wars…. Yes, I am well aware of Mr. O'Brien's pedigree. What is his opinion?' A mark of the man, that he did not even query the disagreement of a junior officer with his assessment. Kira gave him the Chief's bleak diagnosis of the sickness about to plague the area, noting her agreement. Picard scowled.

'So. Either we strengthen the defences across the whole grid or leave the gap, wait until they show their hand, and then retaliate. The latter meaning we will probably suffer casualties in the process…. Unless… What if we allow them to open fire briefly… and then scatter. With luck in the euphoria they will attempt to charge through. Where the Klingons will be waiting for them..' He held up his hand to forestall the complaint, 'yes I know Colonel. That's what we did last time. However, consider this. How many times have either of us been known to repeat ourselves? Hmmm?'

Kira grinned. Both were renowned for their innovations. 'It just might work'. Picard looked back at her. 'It has to Nerys… We have nothing else.'

He shut off the PADD and left the Ready Room to resume his seat in the centre command chair of the Bridge. His sigh and outlet of breath caused Riker to glance across at him with some concern; 'Something wrong sir?' Picard returned the look, 'In a moment Wil. Mr Worf, open a channel to the Hegh'ta please.'

* * *

><p>Kurn sat in the command chair of the Vor'cha attack cruiser. Brooding. Drumming his fingers on the arm. A Klingon warrior does not class patience as a virtue, and Kurn was a warrior of the highest order. He was glad of the reprieve;<p>

'Captain! We are being hailed. It is the Enterprise'.

He stirred, 'Onscreen!' Smiling wolfishly at the anticipation of news. Picard's face faded into view. He did not look pleased. The Klingon's elation faded into suspicion as he regarded his old friend, and his brother's Captain, warily an eyebrow raised. 'Captain Picard, how may I be of service?'

Picard smiled, recognising the forced diplomacy for what it was. The strained effort of a frustrated Klingon warrior. One who has recently witnessed the destruction of his brother warriors and whose blood is baying for vengeance. He phrased his next sentence very carefully.

'Captain Kurn. There is news, both good and bad. The bad news is that we lack sufficient power in our ships for the proposed plan to generate the tachyon grid required. The good news is that this will leave a gap in the field.'

Kurn's eyebrow climbed a little higher as he regarded Picard. Questioning. 'This is the good news. Forgive me Captain, but how can two pieces of bad news make one good one?'

Picard's smile broadened, knowing Kurn would appreciate the irony. 'The revised plan', he began, ' involves the weakened area of the grid being positioned at a slight angle to the direction from which we expect the Cardassians to approach. We anticipate that they will stand off to study us and look for weaknesses. Macet is suspicious and will not take the bait. Evek however is brute force and will advocate attack. In the end he will win because by then they will be nearing their goal, short of fuel and supplies. We anticipate they will attack, drive a wedge through the grid and pour on the power. At which point we scatter in panic.' He paused.

'And then?' Eagerness.

Picard's smile by now threatened to split his face in two. 'And then your squadron will decloak around the threat and close the trap. You see they will see the tachyon grid. The trap. However, the grid is the bait. Your squadron is the trap. I would not be too concerned for them though, as I doubt they will go quietly. You may have a bit of a battle on your hands.'

Kurn, for the first time since being reunited with his brother, smiled broadly. 'Captain! It is a plan of cunning and guile. Worthy of a Klingon!'

Picard laughed. 'Praise indeed! I am pleased you approve Captain Kurn. Preparations begin at once. Picard out.' He flipped the PADD control to close the channel and stretched in his chair. Blinking the hours of inaction from his eyes he stood and strode to the door of his Ready Room.

* * *

><p>The warp core. Heart of the Enterprise, heart of all Federation starships. The blue column of light stretching the full thirty-two decks of the Enterprise, its' colour the result of the transformation of the antimatter into a sustainable energy source by the dilithium articulation chamber. A very precise and complex piece of equipment. Yet none of this was on Geordi's mind as he stood, both hands on the support rail watching it. His artificial eyes focussing individual photons of light into an intricate and supremely beautiful pattern before him. A small cough behind him interrupted his reverie. He barely had time to note it sounded somehow… artificial… before turning to see Data stood expectantly behind him.<p>

'Yes Data. What's up?' The android briefly toyed with the idea of listing all things above them, or in a position higher than their resting state, indeed perhaps he should have, however he suspected Geordi might interpret this as a misuse of the Humour routine he was working on. Geordi regarded him suspiciously suspecting, and noted slowly, 'No. I'll rephrase. What's our status?'

'Captain Picard has spoken to Captain Kurn and agreed the suggested plan to make use of our weakness rather than attempt a redeployment at this late stage.' He paused. 'It is a pity, is it not that the Treaty of Algeron prohibits the Federation from using cloaking technology? If that were the case…'

Geordi interrupted him speaking quickly; 'Data do you remember the Pegasus? Commander Riker's first ship. Phasing cloak installed on it. Completely blown out of the water by the courts martial that occurred straight after we discovered her intact inside that asteroid?'

'Geordi… I….'

'LaForge to Captain Picard.' The reply crisp. 'Picard here. What can I do for you Mr LaForge?'

'Captain I need to speak with you. May we use your Ready Room?'

The reply not so crisp, a note of curiosity. 'Of course. I'll meet you there. Picard out.'

* * *

><p>Having attracted several curious glances from the bridge crew, who were quite naturally surprised to see Geordi away from his babies, he paused and tapped the door enunciator for the Captain's Ready Room.<p>

'Enter'. He did so. Picard swivelled in his chair and eyed him curiously. 'Now then Mr LaForge what can I do for you?' A broad smile.

'Sir do you remember NCC- 53847, the Pegasus, Comman…' The smile vanished as Picard tapped the desk intercom. 'Wil would you mind stepping in here a minute please?' A pause and then the doors slid open behind them as the large frame of Commander William Riker filled the doorway. He entered and took a seat, reversed, facing both Geordi and Picard. Picard fixed Geordi with a steely glint in his eye.

'I'm starting not to like this idea Mr LaForge, and you haven't even finished the first sentence! Perhaps you would be good enough to explain why you chose to invoke the name of that sorry vessel?'

Geordi swallowed; if possible his artificial eyes took on a nervous look. He coughed.

'Well, sir. As you know the Pegasus'; Will flinched; 'was fitted with a revolutionary design in cloaking technology. Now obviously as we all know, its' use would be expressly forbidden by the Treaty of Algeron, as Data was good enough to point out to me again just now.' He paused. 'There is however a precedent set now. The Defiant as we all know was designed to be one of a fleet of purebred warships, the first of their type in Federation history. The intent being to provide a form of real defence to the Borg threat. Granted all Federation line vessels have the ability to defend themselves, however the Defiant's purpose is to go out looking for trouble and neutralise the threat. It also, courtesy of the alliance with the Romulans, has been fitted with a cloaking device. This would give us one cloaked vessel the Cardassians know nothing about, an ace in the hole.'

Riker spoke up. 'You think the Defiant would stand a chance against a Galaxy class crewed by battle hardened veterans of the Border Wars? Not to mention the Bajoran insurrection as they fought their guerrilla war against the occupying forces.'

Geordi looked over at him. 'Frankly Commander, no. Not in a straight fight. So, to my mind two alternatives present themselves. Transplant the cloak into the Enterprise. This would give us the tactical equal of the ship the Cardassians have. However, the Cardassians are likely to notice the Enterprise' absence and start looking for a trap. So rather than that, we leave the Defiant as she is intact';

'Which will no doubt please Mr O'Brien' Picard noted dryly. Geordi permitted himself a small smile and continued; 'Or, and this is why I wanted to speak to you sir.

'When we had the Pegasus incident'; '_I do wish he would stop using that word_' muttered Riker under his breath, but not quite enough; 'When we met up with that unmentionable vessel'; Riker groaned 'Yeah alright Geordi, call it the Pegasus if you must', and sat back muttering under his breath. Picard, his amusement evident at his first officer's discomfort waved Geordi on to continue. 'Anyway sir, in order to jury rig that device into our systems I had to download the complete schematics to the Enterprise technical libraries.'

'Which of course were deleted upon the findings of the official enquiry into that whole sorry mess.' Picard again was adopting the dry tone that Geordi was beginning to harbour a mistrust of. He coughed. 'Yes, yes they were. Deleted from the central online memory storage of the Enterprise Technical Libraries.'

Picard had momentarily discovered an evil streak that allowed him to derive some amusement from the increasing discomfort of his Chief Engineer; who was rapidly adopting the demeanour of the small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He raised an eyebrow and repeated the phrase, with emphasis; 'The central **online** memory storage.' He tilted his head back a little. 'If memory serves, there is a backup facility only to be utilised in catastrophic situations. This backup being essentially offline would not be privy to the normal data audits performed routinely following such a Directive?' He did not wait for the reply. 'It strikes me that such a location would make a perfect place to store data which might otherwise, were it to come under official scrutiny, to cause some disquiet among the investigative team. Is it not?'

Geordi coughed and considered his next sentence, which may be his last outside the Brig, very carefully before replying. 'The... ummm… actual wording of the ruling stated that all record of the data pertaining to the Pegasus' cloaking device must be removed immediately from the online data storage facilities of every Starfleet database. There was no mention of records not currently held online.'

Picard squared him with a hard look. 'So. In an unusually pedantic mood you chose to obey the ruling to the very letter, and not the spirit in which it was intended. I take it the requisite information can be recovered from the archival backup without delay?'

Geordi sighed. 'Yes sir. To both.'

Unable to contain himself any longer Picard cracked a wide grin and stood up, slapping his hand on the younger, extremely surprised, officer's shoulder. 'Excellent work Mr LaForge. Quite excellent. I shall of course have to advise the good Admiral of our change of plan, and hopefully without too much obfuscation, skirt the issue of how we come to be in this situation'. At the mention of Admiral Henry it was Geordi's turn to wince markedly.

'Alright you two. Go to it. Dismissed.'

* * *

><p>'You what?' The Station Operations Chief wiggled his little finger in his ear and regarded the Enterprise' Chief Engineer balefully. 'You know Geordi, for a minute there I could have <em>sworn<em> you said... ' Geordi grimaced and interrupted his colleague. 'I _did_ Miles... now the question is, can we do it, you and I, between us in the time allotted?' O'Brien ran his tongue around the outside of his teeth as if attempting to shift a food particle, in actual fact in deep thought. He pursed his lips and nodded. 'Yes, yes I think so. I'll need to bring over a couple of the lads with me, with a job this size I don't think even the full Enterprise Engineering team will be enough…' 'Besides which', broke in Geordi, 'they have other priorities right now, you know little things like a full Level 1 diagnostic on every single system the ship has. I'm not having anything fail when we go into battle!' He thought and amended, 'well nothing that hasn't been shot at first anyway!'

They left DS9's Ops Centre where they had been discussing the issue and headed for the main transporter room. On the way O'Brien tapped his communicator several times barking orders and requests as thoughts and requirements, both for personnel and materials occurred to him for the task. When they reached their destination Geordi was surprised, but pleased, to see half a dozen of DS9's most experienced engineering staff waiting for them, along with several canisters of equipment. He stepped up onto the pedestal awaiting him and turned to the control booth where the ensign glanced up at him expectantly.

'Energise!'

* * *

><p>Picard looked up from his steepled fingers across at his far from happy First Officer. It was not hard to tell that William T Riker was not best pleased with this latest turn of events. He spoke quietly. 'Wil, if this is our best chance, and to me it seems our only real option much as I too dislike the idea, then we must take it.' Riker regarded him without word, answering the unspoken question between them by raising his hand horizontally and making a chopping motion an inch or so above his head. Picard smiled grimly, 'we've been in deeper spots before Wil, and as usual we'll just have to weather the storm and see what happens.' Riker sighed and nodded. 'Permission to return to the bridge sir? I daren't leave Deanna in charge too long, you know what happened last time!' Despite himself Picard chuckled 'yes I think you'd better Number One. To lose one starship in a career might be considered misfortune, two mere coincidence, but three? That begins to look like enemy action!' Riker laughed aloud and strode through the sliding doors behind him to regain command of the bridge.<p>

* * *

><p>Macet prowled the ship like a hungry lion. The Cardassian Gul was not a man known for his patience, which was rapidly thinning. He had taken to picking up on the smallest faults, resulting in more than half the ship's crew being on report for everything from a misfiled report to a tarnished rank insignia. Meanwhile his counterpart Evek was doing what he could to maintain morale. In effect both counteracting each other's actions. Back on the bridge the mood was sombre, a state of affairs Terek was not used to. He gave a low whistle. Seetel glanced across from where she was sitting working on an inventory of their weapons load. He grinned. She shook her head and returned to her work, but could not prevent a small smile creasing her lips as she worked. Stopping she returned his gaze and smiled back. Both relaxed, content now in knowing that however this turned out there would be a life afterwards.<p>

As they sat back in their seats Evek returned to take bridge control from Sub-Commander Tokach who returned to his place at the Security station behind. He nodded swiftly to Seetel. 'Report!' Seetel gave him her full inventory of their weapons at which Evek grunted in satisfaction. He next nodded to Terek who similarly gave course, position and fuel statistics to the Gul. The latter he was not best pleased with. 'Dammit!' He pounded the arm of the command chair with a closed fist. Terek blanched. 'Why so little fuel?' Terek thought swiftly, and once again decided honesty was the best policy. 'Sir it was not envisaged that there would be as much combat during this mission as has occurred. The extended periods at Impulse while we repair battle damage and assess the situation have led to heavier than anticipated drain on the dilithium and deuterium. The Central Command assumed we would be on a straight run back to Cardassia Prime. If we had not entered into battle…' Evek glanced at him. 'Have a care Centurion. That plan was of Gul Macet's devising. You would do well not to speak so in front of him', here he paused 'however I will not report your comment on this occasion.' Terek sank visibly in his seat, relief all over his face. 'Sir!' He nodded and turned back to his station.

Evek sat regarding the back of his head for a little while deep in thought. _'Careless? Probably? Accurate? Absolutely? Useful? Time would tell!'_ He grinned wolfishly considering the next move. 'Centurion! What speed can we make with available fuel on a direct course to Cardassia Prime?' Terek tapped his console and looked up. 'Warp 7.9 Sir!' 'Any margin for error in that?' Terek swallowed. 'Barely Sir. That is our absolute maximum.' Evek narrowed his eyes, angry at the compromising position his counterpart, ever the war hawk, had placed them all in. 'Evek to Macet. Meet me in the Captain's Ready Room. Immediately!' There sounded an angry noise halfway between a curse and a snarl and the other end of the communication was severed.

Presently the origin of the noise marched onto the bridge and without a sideways glance at the other crew barged into the Ready Room. He stopped short when he saw Evek sat in the Captain's chair before him, reading a PADD. Never a patient man he snarled 'Well? You saw fit to pull me away from my review of the ship's status! What for?' Evek turned his face up toward him with an upturned eyebrow. 'Oh? Reviewing the ship's status? And what exactly have you discovered?' The sarcasm dripping from every syllable went unnoticed, certainly not acknowledged. Macet grunted. 'We are ready to take on anyone. Our repairs are fully complete, engineering is fully up and running, weapons systems are at peak efficiency and we have enough armament to last us easily!'

Evek observed quietly, dangerously so, 'if we can actually move to meet the target that is!' 'What are you talking about?' Evek literally threw the PADD at Macet. 'See! See for yourself what your foolish warmongering has done to us! We have barely enough fuel to make Cardassia Prime! If the Federation manage to slow us down any further _we may not even make the border!_' This last he almost screamed in his fury. Gul Macet glanced at the figures on the PADD and grunted. 'So? We make a straight run for the border and get over before the Federation even know we are there! Stop being such an old woman Evek!' Evek glared back at him smarting at the insult. 'And you think the border will not be guarded? That they will let us through happily and wave us on our way? For all we know half the fleet could be awaiting us when we get there!' Here he paused in his tirade. 'Regrettably it would seem that your suggestion now is the only course open to us. I have ordered a straight run for the border, Warp 7.6!' Macet grinned but was stifled by the glare of Evek. 'Do not celebrate yet Macet! The only available course takes us within 500,000 kilometres of Deep Space Nine, and the last I heard the Enterprise was headed that way!' Macet shrugged in diffidence to the information. 'We beat the Hood we can beat Enterprise!' Evek just shook his head and picked up the PADD to resume his reading. Not bothering to mention that the Hood as an Excelsior class was below the Galaxy class they had acquired, but that the Enterprise-E was Sovereign class and much heavier armed and defended than their own current vessel. He grunted. At Warp 8 they were a little over eight and a half hours from the border. At Warp 7.6 probably 9 hours.

* * *

><p>Geordi grimaced reflexively as the door slid open behind him. The heavy confident step he knew to be that of Wil Riker. A man guaranteed to want words with him regarding the current situation. Steeling himself he stood straight and turned around.<p>

'Commander.' Riker studies him silently for a few seconds. He crossed to the central workstation and placed one foot up on a low ledge leaning over it. One hand to his mouth he pursed his lips. Finally he spoke softly. 'You do realise Geordi, that when this comes out, Captain Picard may not be able to protect you from the board of inquiry.' Not a question, as Geordi realised, simply a statement of fact. He cleared his throat. 'Ah yeah. I do Commander.' He sighed heavily. 'Well I don't know. I just sorta figured we might need it someday, so I just…. Uh..' Wil grunted. 'Saved it offline, as the Captain said, obeying the letter of the ruling rather than the spirit.' Again not a question. 'Oh well, how's it going?' Geordi relaxed visibly, clearly Riker was not going to blow up. At least not yet.

Stepping over to the console across from Riker he punched in his access code and then a status request on the cloak. He grimaced. 'Not well is the answer. Back when the Pega.. I err… the previous ship… was using it the flow regulators were able to compensate. Damn but this thing _drinks_ power! Anyway, with the Sovereign class the regulators have been redesigned for lower emissions, part of the law that was brought in a while back limiting non-essential Warp travel to Warp 7.' 'What's your point Geordi?' 'The point being that although the current regulators have enough to run the ship at full tilt with all systems maxed out, they don't have enough juice to run an extra piece of kit that draws as much as this thing does!' He scowled and ran a hand over his face, thinking furiously. Riker looked at him. 'Well? What's wrong with increasing the threshold of the current regulators up to the old limits? Surely the new ones will take the power?'

Geordi raised his eyebrow and looked at him. 'Break the new regul…' He stopped, realising what he was about to say. 'Oh well, seeing as we are on a roll anyway…. Computer. Increase the threshold of the anti-matter flow regulators by…. Fifteen percent.' 'Not recommended' came the instant reply. 'This procedure would breach…' 'Computer recognise Riker William T. Authorisation Kappa Four Six Eight Theta.' 'Recognising Riker, William T.' 'Execute all orders of the Enterprise Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge. On my authority.'

'Make that mine.'

Both officers spun around at the well-recognised and respected voice, speaking in a clear authoritative tone. 'Computer recognise Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain of the USS Enterprise, NCC 1701-E, and execute the Chief Engineer's instructions.' A short pause. 'Authority recognised. Anti-matter flow regulators now operating at peak output.' Picard regarded them. Now gentlemen, shall we see how that does?' Geordi tapped at his console, raised both eyebrows and looked up at them both. He licked his lips nervously. 'Well. It works. Barely. Although if somebody wants a glass of Regulan Ale at the wrong time we could be in serious trouble!'

Picard grunted. 'Well we're not going to have time to test it. That was the reason I came down personally. Some odd readings have been reported from sensor sweeps approximately one light year away. Indications are it could be our quarry, which at Warp 9 would put them 5 hours 46 minutes away.' Riker looked at Picard, who nodded. 'We're heading back to the bridge Mr LaForge. See what you can do in the time we have to establish how reliably the system is going to operate under load. By which I mean full shields and weapon arrays online. I have the feeling we are going to need them. Take every non-essential system offline as necessary' With that he turned and left with Riker in tow, leaving LaForge standing at the console breathing heavily.

Abruptly he straightened up. 'Alright listen up people! We have a probable hostile expected in less than six hours. Let's use that time to make sure that whatever happens the Enterprise has the power she needs where and when she needs it. Reg, I want you manning the monitoring station for the flow regulators. Sonya, you're with me on the cloak. The rest of you, you know what to do. Just keep the old girl running smoothly.' This last simple statement raising one or two eyebrows as each left to attend their own stations. All had been in battle on numerous occasions and were well aware how difficult 'just' keeping a ship running in combat was likely to be. The depth of understatement underlined by Sonya Gomez as she brushed past him. Looking up into his eyes she breathed softly. 'Yep. Ok. 'Keep the old girl running'.' Geordi sighed as he turned to follow her to the shield control console. 'How do I get myself into these things?' 'Practise!' The comment thrown over her shoulder brought a wry grin to his face. He followed on and murmured 'Yeah, sounds about right!'


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.**

* * *

><p>Aboard the Heghta the atmosphere was markedly different. There was no fear or trepidation. One emotion ran through the crew. Expectation. Today would see a great battle. Not the first for any of them, certainly not their Captain whose sat grinning wolfishly in the command chair as he barked orders to the crew around him. Yet they knew that if there were a chance of the Cardassians succeeding the Central Command might just send assistance, knowing that their duplicity in the action was already known. Very possibly they might send a warship to destroy the rogue vessel and claim the crew as renegades. Somehow Kurn doubted that, as he knew the Central Command and was not as sure as his Federation allies that they would willingly throw away the chance to obtain such a weapon. He leaned forward to accept a data pad offered by one of the crew and grunted in satisfaction. Whatever the Empire's enemies had in store for them today, they would be ready.<p>

'Signal the Enterprise. The squadron is ready for battle.'

* * *

><p>Back onboard DS9 Kira Nerys was decidedly harassed. Not only was she responsible for the combat readiness of the station, but also provisioning for that of the fleet gathering around it. She tapped her comm. badge. 'Chief, how are we doing?' O'Brien's voice came back. 'I'm just returning now from the Enterprise, Colonel. Looks as though Lieutenant Reetek has kept things running smoothly in my absence. All systems check out perfectly.' Kira grinned, and couldn't resist, 'That's a first isn't it Chief?' There was a pause and a slowly drawled 'Yesss… Actually that's a good point. Nothing has ever worked absolutely spot on around here. I'm going to run through the diagnostics one more time to make absolutely certain that it isn't the routines themselves giving false readings. What we don't need is an EPS conduit or a power relay blowing at the wrong time in combat. Give me ten minutes. O'Brien out.' Nerys nodded, vaguely aware he would not see the motion and turned back to the display on her desk. She flicked the display off and stood. Always a preference for action, she strode out to the main Ops Centre to see first hand the work of her command staff. Ezri Dax noticed the movement as the door slid open and raised an eyebrow at her. She returned the look and shrugged. Ezri knew her as well as anyone; knew she could not sit idly in an office while there was work to be done.<p>

'How's it going Dax?' Ezri mimicked the shrug and grinned. 'We're on top of things here. Shields, phaser banks, all systems up and running. Long range scanners keeping an eye open for our visitors, although to be brutally honest I think the first time we are going to have positive ID on their location is after they've opened fire on the Merrimac. All ship commanders have signed in at peak readiness so although they may get the first shot off, we are pretty much guaranteed the second. From then on it's every ship for themselves. Let's just hope the Cardassians keep out of it.' Kira directed a sharp swift glance at her. 'Something I should know about?' Again Ezri shrugged, 'Probably nothing, but in his status report Captain Kurn indicated he and his ships are ready for 'anything they can throw at us'. Call it intuition but if he was only expecting a Galaxy class he would have said so.' Kira pursed her lips. 'Maybe, equally it could just be our noble comrade's wishful thinking. A single Galaxy would be made mincemeat of in seconds. If however the Central Command decided the prize was too good to lose that easily, things could get ugly in a hurry. She made her decision. 'Signal the Enterprise and notify them. Tactical command is Captain Picard's area. He should be aware of the possibilities.'

* * *

><p>The sick bay of the Enterprise was a hive of activity.<p>

'I said _medical_ tricorders!' The raised, and agitated, voice of Beverley Crusher carried across the bay to where Bashir was standing with his back to her while supervising the construction of an emergency triage area for the most severe wounds. He glanced over his shoulder where she was glowering at an ensign in front of her and called across 'You're beautiful when you're angry!' She looked over and snapped 'Shut up!' However a grin spread across her face. 'Alright Ensign, nobody's perfect. Just make sure you get the right ones this time.' 'Yes Doctor.' He turned and left the room.

She grumbled and returned to the inventory she was doing of the equipment that she had begged borrowed or stole.. '_acquired_' she amended with a smile to herself. She snapped the padd in front of her closed and called over 'I'll be on the bridge if I'm needed. Captain Picard has called a meeting of the senior staff.' With that she strode out of the sickbay, noting on the way, how Bashir's eyes followed her. Beverley's wicked streak took temporary control and she gave a minute wiggle as she left. She was rewarded by a fumble and clatter as his PADD hit the floor. In turn he was rewarded by a burst of laughter silenced by the closing door behind her. As he straightened up to resume his work Bashir caught the eye of Alyssa Ogawa and saw the badly hidden amusement. He sighed and caught up where he had left off.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile Crusher was just entering the turbolift and was opening her mouth to call for the Bridge when a shout held her back. 'Wait one Beverley!' A second later Troi slipped through the doors and smiled at her. 'Going my way?' Crusher rolled her eyes; suddenly everyone was a comedian. 'How's Julian?' Crusher paused and replied, 'He's fine.' Troi glanced at her and decided on this occasion not to pursue the inquiry. As the doors slid open they turned right and skirted around the back of the main bridge, entering the door on the far side into the Observation Lounge. As they entered Crusher drew a sharp breath. More than merely the Enterprise crew, no less than four starship Captains had joined them for the briefing. Needless to say chief among the new arrivals was Robert DeSoto of the Hood. Additionally Kurn had taken time out from his preparations to attend, as had Kira Nerys and Miles O'Brien for DS9. Crusher smiled at DeSoto and took her customary place at the long centre table. After waiting for everyone to settle Picard stood and approached the display at the front.<p>

'I think we'll dispense with introductions. Everybody here knows each other if not by sight then certainly by reputation', here he glanced between Robert DeSoto and Will Riker. His attention was rewarded by a good-natured rumble from the pair who regarded him with some suspicion wondering what joke was about to be sprung on them. However Picard returned to business. 'As you all are aware we have, or I should say, had, potential problems with the Merrimac. Essentially the power output for the tachyon grid from the Merrimac was found to be lower than required. However, we have found a way to work around this and turn the potential weakness into an advantage.' He went on to describe in detail the plan that had been formulated up to that point and concluded by indicating where each of those assembled would come into the scene. 'Now are there any questions?'

He glanced across as Kurn raised a metal clad hand, 'Yes, Captain?' Kurn grinned wolfishly and rumbled 'How long until they arrive?' Picard threw a questioning look at Geordie LaForge. He thought swiftly. 'Probably within the next 90 minutes would be the absolute earliest, more likely two hours or so. Our original calculations as you know were based on best possible speed, so that if they arrived later, then we would have time in hand to prepare. Kurn nodded. 'Excellent. My squadron will deploy immediately to their assigned positions. Permission to leave Captain?'

'Granted.' Kurn stood and strode swiftly out to return to the Heghta.

'Captain Picard!' He turned, 'Yes Robert, how are repairs going on the Hood?' DeSoto smiled, the first time in days. 'We're doing fine Jean-Luc, I was wondering though about the dispersion of ships. Why is the Hood not in the front line?'

Picard grinned 'Not had enough Robert? Actually if you notice, the Hood is adjacent to the Merrimac. If the Cardassians come barrelling through there you'll see plenty of action, trust me old friend.'

DeSoto grinned and sat back in his chair. Picard glanced warily at him. 'Now any more questions?' There were none. 'Alright, dismissed, thank you everyone.' The meeting broke up as all returned to their ships and assigned stations.

As Riker was leaving Picard called him back. 'Will! Stay a moment if you would.' Riker sat on the edge of the table and looked at him expectantly. 'You know what I am thinking Will, what is your opinion? You served with the man as his First Officer long enough.' Riker bit the side of his mouth and grimaced. 'He's on the edge. The Hood lost 21 of her crew in the battle and it's brought back memories of the border conflicts. Did you know he was involved in the clean-up operations after Setlik III? It was Picard's turn to wince. 'No I knew Chief O'Brien's involvement of course, on the Rutledge, but not that Robert was there too. Hmm…' he sighed, 'Well it can't be helped now. Be ready Will, old friend or not I will not sacrifice this mission if there is a problem. I will replace him as Captain of the Hood… with you.' He raised his hand to stay Riker's objection. 'I hope it won't come to that, and knowing Robert's record, I doubt it will, but you need to know the chance exists, and I needed to know your thoughts.'

Riker stood, 'If that's all Captain?' Picard nodded, 'Oh just one thing Will… who was Kelly?' Riker froze. His sharp glance at Picard drew a nod from the other. 'I thought so. Will, I don't need to be a Betazoid to feel the tension when you asked that question. Is there a problem?' Riker shook his head. 'No sir, I… Deanna and I... have discussed her. There is no problem that will affect this mission.' Picard nodded, 'I'm sorry Will, you understand I had to ask, as you would have had every right to query my reaction to Vash; which you did not query, and I am grateful for your discretion in that.' He pursed his lips, 'That will be all Commander.' Riker nodded and exited the Observation Lounge.

Picard stood for a few minutes reflecting on the personal losses that had been inflicted in such a short space of time. An involuntary shudder passed through him as he recalled the moment of being advised of the deaths of his brother, sister-in-law and nephew and the subsequent events that led to the supposed destruction of his previous command. He exhaled sharply, pulling down on the hem of his jacket and strode out of the Observation Lounge, replacing Will Riker who had taken the command chair in his absence.

'How are we looking Number One?'

Riker looked up from his displays. 'Well the fleet is loaded for bear. Kira Nerys has done a great job restocking any shortfall in weapons inventory from the reserves of DS9. The Merrimac has been given an augmented load and somehow', here he raised an amused eyebrow, 'the combined talents of Chief O'Brien and Geordi LaForge, not to mention a certain android Starfleet officer, have raised shield efficiency a full 30%. I asked Geordi and he muttered something about 'knowing the guy who wrote the specs' but he wouldn't be more explicit than that.' Picard chuckled 'I think he is referring to a certain ex-Enterprise Chief Engineer we ran into a few years back.' Riker smiled in realisation. 'Ah, well anyway that should give the Cardassians a nasty shock. They may be thinking to take out the Merrimac with one shot, but with those shields they'd have to be very lucky… especially as her captain is likely to weight the shield strength heavily to the expected approach vector of the enemy ship.'

Picard yawned. 'Good. In that case I am ordering all senior staff to rest up for a few hours. At the earliest the Cardassians can't be here for another… Mr Data, how long until the earliest we can expect trouble?' Data swivelled in his seat. 'At a sustained Warp 7.6 the hostile vessel could be in range within 2 hours. Picard grunted. 'Better than nothing I suppose, so on that note, Will, you and I are hereby ordered by the good doctor to get our heads down.' He tapped his communicator. 'Mr LaForge, Mr Worf… both of you report to your cabins immediately. I'm sure your teams can manage without you for a while.' He paused and stood. 'Mr Data you have the bridge.' He beckoned Riker to follow and left the bridge in the capable hands of one tireless android.

* * *

><p>'Status!' Evek turned to the Glen at the security station.<p>

'All ready Gul Evek. All stations report full readiness.'

Evek clasped his hands together. At last they were nearing home. His mouth split in a wolfish grin. 'On my mark... Engage!'

* * *

><p>On the bridge of every Starfleet and Klingon Defense Force vessel, alarms lit off in quick succession. 'Red Alert!' came the bellow of Riker 'All hands to General Quarters!' Across the vast bulk of the Sovereign class starship, crew members scrambled to their allotted posts. A split-second later Picard arrived on the bridge, followed rapidly by Worf and Troi. Vacating the command chair, Riker dropped into the First Officer's position and tapped urgently at his side console to bring up a situation report.<p>

'I thought we weren't expecting them for another half hour or so?' Deanna queried, evidently puzzled. Picard turned to her and commented sourly 'No battle-plan has ever survived first contact with the enemy, Counsellor – a truism which is the bane of every commander in the field, and has been since the first caveman threw a rock at another on Earth.' He snapped around to Wil Riker 'Report Number One!' Riker grimaced. 'Trust the Cardassians not to do what is expected of them!' Picard arched an eyebrow 'Which is?' Pointing to his readout Riker illustrated the point, 'See? We expected them to come in on a straight trajectory heading for home with all possible speed. Instead they swung around the back side of Bajor and caught us on the blindside. They're still ten minutes away, but the damn Merrimac is not positioned relative to them where we need it for the plan to work!'

'Do they know they've been spotted yet?' Riker shook his head 'No.. the problem is now though that any manoeuvring by us will tip our hand as they will wonder why we are re-deploying and figure they've been spotted.' Picard tapped his top lip thoughtfully. 'Hmm... but we can redeploy our cloaked contingent with impunity... Wait! Do they have visual on the Enterprise yet?' Another shake of the head in response. 'Good! Signal Kurn to redeploy his forces on tangent to the incoming vessel. Meanwhile', he tapped his communicator, 'Mr LaForge! Now if you please!'

A curious shimmer passed before Riker's eyes. Curious, unsettling and yet somehow unhappily familiar. Picard saw his glance and nodded. The phasing cloak had been engaged. Now, when the Cardassians hit they'd have an Ace up their sleeves.

* * *

><p>'Sir!' Terek's call from the Ops station brought Macet's head up from examining the data coming in on his chair console, 'What is it Centurion?' Terek responded by bringing up the tactical display from his console on the main viewscreen. To the bottom right the curvature of Bajor fell away behind them, but the reason for Terek's concern was immediately apparent. Arrayed before them was a fleet of Federation vessels; clearly their strategy had been anticipated. Macet cursed then thought, asking 'How long to the border?' The response, this time from Seetel at Helm '30 minutes sir..' Macet scowled, that meant twenty minutes of flight after they had got through the cordon ahead, which given the calibre of the vessels in the fleet was by no means guaranteed. Evek exited the Captain's Ready Room where he had been.. what? '<em>Sleeping!<em>' thought Macet sourly. 'Good of you to join us...' with biting sarcasm, and he jerked a hand at the viewscreen 'You see what the Federation has sent to greet us? The cream of their fleet, it seems they do not want us to make it home with our prize..'

Evek glowered at the screen studying it for several seconds before pronouncing 'Hmm.. a tachyon grid.. not very original considering Picard is undoub..ted.. ly..' his voice trailed off and a quizzical eyebrow raised before he continued '.. that's interesting. Speaking of that devious old.. where is he? Where is the Federation flagship? Surely they wouldn't be left out of an engagement like this.. I see several othe..' a curse of surprise spat from his lips 'The Hood.. they must have broken all records to repair the damage we inflicted on them!' The tone in his voice one of grudging admiration. Macet's harsh voice broke into his thoughts 'Well? You're _supposed_ to be the tactical genius. How do we get through them?' Evek scowled at the insinuation in the _supposed_ and tapped his chin while his eyes drifted over the display. Finally he grinned, and pointed 'Here! This ship, the Merrimac.. the power of its' transmitter is fractionally lower, and it is right next to the Hood.. which despite their obviously hurried repairs cannot be as ready as they would like.' He turned to Macet. 'We cross in front of them as if searching for a way through, but then as we come level with the Merrimac we turn and strike - hard!' Macet regarded him coolly, 'You do not perhaps think the weakness a bit obvious, and they want us to strike there?' Evek glanced at him 'Hmm.. you're learning Macet.. we may make a half-decent tactician out of you yet..' Macet bristled but Evek ignored him continuing '.. Yes I had thought of that but I do not see any other way.. besides even if they are ready for us, if we hit with sufficient power and speed they will not be able to respond before we are through'. Macet growled reluctant acceptance of both points, 'Do it!' Evek turned away almost ignoring the instruction to give his orders to Seetel at the helm.

* * *

><p>Aboard DS9 was a hive of activity as Kira, Dax and O'Brien rattled off orders all around, having been apprised of the Cardassian's unexpected approach, both in timing and direction. 'Bloody Cardies!' O'Brian muttered 'Never where you want them, always where you don't..' Dax glanced at him with an amused grin 'I wasn't aware there actually was anywhere you wanted a Cardassian Miles?' O'Brien opened his mouth to retort, but shook his head and laughed, responding 'Well Garak's OK but.. yeah.. that is about my limit!' Dax chuckled turning back to her science station which during combat doubled as monitor for critical systems including all weaponry and shields.<p>

'How're we looking Dax?' Kira called down from the railing of her office above the circular pit where O'Brien and Dax sat surrounded by a ring of displays for all DS9's critical systems. The Ops Centre where O'Brien - as Chief of Operations for the station - was king. Dax looked up 'We're ready , not that it would make any difference if I said we weren't.. they're coming and they're coming now..' Kira scowled 'Any activity in the Demilitarised Zone?' Dax shook her head.. the DMZ - the zone created by the prior tenuous treaty between the Federation and Cardassia was - as far as her sensors could tell - entirely empty, but they both knew that was a situation that could change in a hurry if things did not go as planned. 'Alright, keep me posted..' Kira turned and went back to her office hearing the doors slide shut behind her.

* * *

><p>Aboard the Enterprise there was a similar tale unfolding. While Picard, Riker, Data and Worf worked together as a well oiled machine - testimony not only to their professionalism, but also to their close friendships - each knew what the other was thinking and doing, elsewhere on the Enterprise other teams were hard at work. Crusher, Bashir and Ogawa were busy in the Sick Bay whilst Geordie was marshalling his troops in Engineering, assigning critical roles to his most trusted staff, particularly Barclay and Gomez. He knew that in the coming battle, especially with the largely untested cloaking device, anything could happen, and a loss - or excess - of power in the wrong place andor at the wrong time could prove fatal, literally.

On the bridge Picard was, as usual, balancing the many balls of his command with consummate ease. While simultaneously checking readiness of all departments he was able to fire off specific queries and instructions to those around him. 'Number One how fa..' 'Three million kilometres' Riker replied to the half spoken question without even taking his eyes from the display to his right side. Rather than reprimand him for interrupting Picard just smiled inwardly and called to his left 'Mr Data, where are they now?' Data responded without turning 'They are clearing Bajor now, they appear to be slowing. I would surmise they have spotted us, and the tachyon grid and are currently probing for a weakness.' Picard grunted, 'Let's hope they find one, and that it's the one we know about', his clarification earning a mild snort from Riker, half amusement half in agreement with the sentiment. Turning in his seat Picard looked back up at the Tactical station, currently occupied by Worf. 'Any activity in the Demilitarised Zone?' Unknowingly echoing the same query from his counterpart aboard DS9. A similar response 'No sir, everything is quiet over there, too quiet', at which Picard raised an eyebrow. 'I rather like the idea of a quiet Demilitarised Zone Mr Worf..?' Worf grunted 'As do I sir.. however it is unlike the Cardassians to see a fleet of Federation vessels this close to their border without sending a ship to investigate. The DMZ is clear - they know their obligations under the treaty - but so is the half million kilometres I am able to scan inside their territory. If I were the Cardassians I would be curious but it seems they are not.' 'Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth eh Worf?' Riker chimed in. Picard stepped in to avoid a pointless discussion brewing 'Agreed Number One, but the point is well taken Mr Worf.. keep an eye on them.' Worf nodded 'Aye Captain'.

* * *

><p>In Engineering LaForge was busy having heard the report that the Cardassians had broken cover. While he left Gomez to deal with propulsion and defensive systems power he put Barclay on offensive systems, with instructions to both to yell the microsecond anything looked dicey. Both had, predictably, given him '<em>Yes, we have done this before<em>' looks. For himself he took the somewhat more precarious, and unreliable in his mind, role of monitoring not only all of the ship's normal systems but also the cloaking device, knowing that if it failed, or even deployed itself, at the wrong moment things could go very badly for all concerned. That and the possible overload of the warp-core was giving him sleepless nights already, and he was fairly sure he hadn't even been to bed yet to get any kind of night, much less a sleepless one.

'Sonya how's the...' She cut in anticipating '100%.. same as it was five minutes ago Geordie..' Barclay chipped in 'Same here..' LaForge rolled his eyes 'OK you two, I was just asking..' He shook his head amused and proud in equal measure that his team was so well-prepared and close-knit they could answer questions he hadn't even finished asking yet.

* * *

><p>'There.. there it is again sir!' Seetel pointed to an unusual reading seemingly emanating from an area ahead of them. Evek peered at the display with suspicion, glancing over at Macet. 'Bah! It is nothing..' Turning back from the display he turned and took his place in the First Officer's chair, momentarily smarting once more that Macet as teh senior Gul had claimed by right the Captain's chair. 'When you're quite ready..' Macet's voice grated on his nerves and he grunted an affirmative. 'Helm set course for the Merrimac and take us past her bow, then straight for the Demilitarised Zone'. Terek tapped a few controls on his console and awaited the next command. It was not long in coming.<p>

'Engage!'

* * *

><p>At the instant they saw the Cardassian ship move the Federation fleet poured all their power into the tachyon grid. Aboard the Merrimac her captain held his nerve, knowing that the next few minutes, and his conduct, would spell success or disaster for the fleet. He glanced up at his Security Chief 'Wait.. wait...'<p>

* * *

><p>'Here they come!' Picard glanced at Riker nodding.<p>

* * *

><p>A snarl of pleasure was torn from Kurn's throat smelling the scent of battle.<p>

* * *

><p>'Fire!' Macet's sharp command snapped across the bridge as his commands were obeyed and as - from outside - the Enterprise-D shimmered into view her phaser banks opened their account sending a concentrated beam of energy at the Merrimac. As the energy made contact with the Merrimac's shields they glowed a bright blue curving around the ship.<p>

* * *

><p>Aboard the Merrimac the Inertial Damping Field struggled to cope, but her captain was gratified to hear the report '<em>No damage sir!<em>' from Ops station to his front left. '_Good_' he thought '_Let's hope it stays that way!_' The unwelcome surprise of the rogue being able to fire from cloak was not something they had been aware of.

* * *

><p>Ignoring a virulent curse from his right Picard spoke calmly. 'Lower the cloak please Mr LaForge! Let's give them a surprise!' Geordi tapped a few controls on his panel and breathed a sigh of relief as the prodigious energy consumption of the cloak plummeted leaving the Enterprise with a little more than her usual loading. He glanced at the other systems and noted with some pleasure all seemed to be within nominal range.<p>

'Open fire Mr Worf.. a full spread of photon torpedoes.. maximum yield..' Riker glanced at the grim set of his captain's jaw but said nothing. The familiar orange balls curved away on the viewscreen toward their prey.

* * *

><p>Engineering and Geordie's face showed alarm at the sudden spike in energy use as the photon torpedoes were released and he hurriedly shunted power from a less critical system to compensate, muttering to himself 'Damn that was close!'<p>

* * *

><p>'They're coming our way! Chief..'<p>

'Yes I see it!' O'Brien immediately aware of the danger transferred shield energy to the sector facing the incoming rogue and unleashed a torrent of phaser fire from the recently upgraded defences. The Enterprise-D responded with photon torpedoes, the impact on a weaker area of the shields setting an alarm off as the rogue ship curved past them attempting escape to the DMZ and Cardassian space.

* * *

><p>In DS9's medlab Crusher and Bashir were shepherding the thankfully small number of casualties to beds, treating cuts and blast burns rapidly both of them aware of how much worse it could get, but not voicing their concern for fear of making it a reality.<p>

* * *

><p>'Dammit Evek! The Merrimac is sti... <em>The Enterprise?<em> Where did _they_ come from? You're certain they weren't..' Macet was clearly unhappy with the sudden change in fortunes, nor too was Evek who snapped 'Yes of course I'm sure!' Snapping at Terek to take evasive action. As they turned to port angling toward the Demilitarised Zone he jerked in his seat as a torpedo grazed the ship's left warp nacelle setting of alarms throughout Engineering. 'Cardassia Prime.. Warp Nine! Engage!' As Terek reached for the control to engage the new course a new - and for the Cardassians unwelcome - development occurred. Around them a phalanx of twelve Klingon battle-cruisers de-cloaked and as they manoeuvred to escape began firing, immediately inflicting heavy damage on the once proud Federation flagship. A heavy blast rocked them and started several fires around the bridge. Seetel glanced over and recoiled in shock seeing Terek's body slumped over his console. 'Engineering to Bridge.. sir we no longer have power to maintain the cloak!'

Macet slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. 'We are lost Evek.. once they see us we shall not escape..' Evek snarled at him in response 'I for one do not intend to die here today.. Come!' Without waiting for a response he stood and strode to the turno-lift behind to their left. Macet followed, angry but also part curious at Evek's thought. 'Captain's Yacht!' Evek barked and stood waiting while the lift plummeted the entire height of the ship to where the Captain's Yacht sat anchored to the bottom of the saucer section. As the doors opened he strode in and began tapping controls to bring the systems online. Macet regarded him with contempt 'So this is your plan.. abandon all we have worked for.. all _I_ have planned these last years?' Evek regarded him sourly 'If you do not like it Macet you can always return to the Bridge..' Macet scowled and sat in the Captain's chair as Macet brought the vessel up to readiness.

* * *

><p>'What the hell?' Riker's bellow of combined confusion and anger echoed across the bridge. Picard shot him a glance. 'Evidently our quarry does not wish to be caught Number One..' Having spotted the small ship detach itself from the Enterprise-D he tapped his communicator he spoke 'Picard to Kurn.. you see them?' Kurn's response was instant ' I do indeed Captain Picard! Shall I..' 'Let them go..' forestalling any objection he continued 'If we capture them it will destroy the treaty, and the fragile peace we currently enjoy.. No I'm afraid on this occasion we will have to let them slip by us..'<p>

* * *

><p>Aboard the Enterprise-D the Security Chief had bolted from his station to take up position in the Captain's chair. Just in time to issue the last command he would ever issue 'Helm get us out of he..'<p>

An expanding brilliant ball of gas and flame marked the position where the ship had once been, a phaser blast having ignited the plasma streaming from the left warp nacelle.

* * *

><p>Aboard the fleet and on DS9 whoops of elation filled the comms channels as the crews celebrated their success. Yet on the Enterprise Picard was curiously sombre, only moving when he felt a touch on his left arm. He nodded 'Yes Counselor I know.. we had no choice.. It doesn't mean I have to like it'. He stood abruptly. 'Number One, you have the bridge.. I have to make a report to Admiral Henry. Hopefully he'll be so relieved he won't ask too many questions.. In the meantime perhaps it would be prudent if Mr LaForge..' Riker nodded 'Aye Captain.. right away..'<p>

Thus as Picard left the bridge to report to Henry, Riker departed to Engineering to speak to LaForge. Both musing how close they had come to disaster.

To a Cardassian Galaxy.


End file.
